Only Alive
by Pied Piper
Summary: When his ex moves out, Taichi’s apartment becomes intolerably empty. So he rents it out to an intolerably attractive 'friend'. Right. Like that's going to stop him.
1. Chapter 1

**Only Alive**

* * *

When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So hefills it up withformer model for a roommate, only she's just a'friend'. Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before…. AU

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

**Author's Note:** It's back. Altered, but you can still see similarities. Also, I'm into recurring characters, so Taichi's butler Li from my story "Been There" is back and better than ever here.

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

"Oh, God," a young man moaned in despair, still feeling nauseous as he recalled the horrible, painful events of the morning so far, banging his head on the desk. "Why _me_?"

"This from the most sought after bachelor in Tokyo?" Izumi Koushiro asked dryly. He tapped his clipboard with his pen and sighed, rather shaken up himself from witnessing the event. "Besides, you asked for it."

Yagami Taichi turned his face to the side and glared at him, though it was far from menacing considering half his face was squished against the wooden top of the desk. In fact, his chief assistant had to stop himself from laughing and forced himself to look away, hiding his smile behind a hasty cough. His boss pretended to ignore it. Instead, he sighed dramatically and leaned back in his leather swivel chair. He raised his hands behind his head and slowly spun around in lazy circles.

"I don't love her. I don't know where the hell she got that idea."

Koushiro tried hard not to roll his eyes. "You romanced her, Taichi, of course she's going to think _you_ think she's special."

"That's ridiculous-,"

"One of these days, you're going to fall head over heels for a girl who's going to treat you just like you deserve, and then maybe you'll see the light."

Taichi raised an innocent eyebrow. "Aren't you just waiting for that?"

"With my camera fully loaded," his redheaded friend smirked.

His young boss turned away and looked out the huge windows of the embassy. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on the glass, staring down at the tiny people and zooming cars below. Then he yawned, "Then I hope the wait goes well for you. Do you want to go to lunch?"

Koushiro sat up.

"It's nine-thirty in the morning," he said in disbelief.

"Koushiro, I hired you to work for me, not mother me." He stood up and stretched. "So, do you want to?"

His friend stood as well and shook his head. "Sorry. _I_ have work to do. Including fixing the damage you've done by breaking up with Kiriko today. You better hope this doesn't affect our relations too much…."

Taichi leaned over the desk.

"We'll be fine. It's not personal, it's political, remember? And you work too much. You have to learn to relax, take things as they come. Like me," he added confidently.

Koushiro smiled wryly. "Miyako wants you to come for dinner tomorrow."

"After what happened last time?"

Koushiro winced and Taichi grinned, folding his arms over his chest. "Well, just don't mention the cousin incident, and maybe she won't say anything either. But she says she doesn't want you alone, especially now that Li's on holiday."

"I am never alone," he scoffed. Then he winked. "At least, not for long."

His friend groaned.

"Ah, don't worry about it. I can handle women."

"Hell hath no fury, Taichi, hell hath no fury…." Koushiro waved and closed the door behind him.

Taichi grinned and sank back on his chair. He pulled open a drawer under his desk and dug through the stash of junk that had piled up over the years for his wallet and keys. He found the keys and dropped them on the desk, frowning as he bent his head low over the open space to squint into the mess. Reminding himself to have his secretary empty the drawer before it overflowed and smothered him alive one day, he finally grabbed his worn leather wallet.

He paused now to stare at it, a faint smile playing on his lips. He ran his thumb over the soft brown leather, once sleek and shiny but now reduced to its current state by incessant use. Instinct made him open it and stare at the first flap of clear plastic film, empty now. He closed it.

_Too bad, Koushiro. You missed your chance._

With a long sigh, he slipped his wallet into his back pocket and then left his office.

"Neela, hold my calls," he told his secretary, who was asleep at her desk and didn't hear him. Taichi stopped and stared at the old woman, her plastic nose the only thin part on her saggy, overly done face.

"Neela?" he asked, irritated.

The woman snorted and drooled on the desk.

Incredibly disgusted, he grabbed a post-it from the desktop, scribbled her dismissal note on it, and stuck it to her forehead. Stopping at the bathroom to wash his hands, he took the elevator down to the last floor, leaning against the back wall moodily.

What was with secretaries? He'd fired fifteen of them in the past three years alone. The only good one he had was some guy fresh out of graduate school who kept trying to hit on him, but at least he had a great work ethic. When the man got married to some Australian actor, though, he left without even a two-week notice, though that good-bye had been one of the better kisses Taichi had received. But that left him with huge shoes to fill, and no one had yet measured up. He was sick of hiring and firing and hiring and firing, all though he had to admit that his dismissal letters were getting better and better. He was an expert at firing now.

But what he really needed was a one good secretary. And unless the gay guy was getting a divorce, Taichi didn't think he'd ever find one again.

_Oh, God_, he massaged his temples tiredly. _I need a drink…._

The elevator stopped at the fourth floor, and he groaned. He was very tempted to keep the door closed and prevent anyone from getting on, since he really wanted to be alone, but a young woman entered the lift before he could try, completely ignoring him, and pressed the button to the lobby. She wore a dark, navy blue suit (complete with a rather high skirt) with pink trimming along the hem and cuffs. Her purse was a matching pink with a string of pearls as the strap. She had designer sunglasses on, and a wide-brimmed hat, pulled low over her face. Her hair was pulled up and tucked into her hat, though strands had fallen loose behind her neck and along her cheeks. Though he couldn't read her expression, he guessed by the way she tapped her blue high-heeled foot that she was irritated by something.

She was awfully short, he noticed at once. _And completely unqualified for a professional job in an embassy, of all places. _He frowned at her fashion statement, the boldness of her attire that was rather inappropriate for this environment. _What the hell kind of standards is Daisuke hiring with now?_

She still hadn't noticed him, staring straight ahead at the mahogany doors of the elevator, her full lips pursed with impatience. He let his gaze wander down. _All right, so Daisuke's standards aren't _that_ bad…._

Curious, he cleared his throat.

She didn't react.

He coughed again.

She glanced at her pearl watch.

He faked a sneeze.

She stiffened, growing very still.

He performed an impressively-delivered cough/sneeze.

"What the hell is your damn problem?" she snapped, whirling around. Then she gasped, clapping a freshly manicured hand over her dainty mouth.

Taichi raised an eyebrow and smirked, enjoying the reaction. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he leaned lazily back on the wall of the elevator, one leg bent so that the bottom of his shoe was flat against the wall.

"Hello."

She didn't remove her hand. "Hello," she squeaked through her fingers.

The doors opened, revealing the lobby. He gestured with a hand. "After you."

Her cheeks were a dark red as she stepped gingerly out of the elevator, walking stiffly. He followed her for a while, fully aware that _she_ was fully aware of his presence. When she came to a nervous halt in front of the information desk, he leaned in towards her ear, "I'll see around then?"

"I'm so sorry, Taichi," she stammered, face still flushed in embarrassment, turning around to look at him. "I didn't know it was you—,"

He frowned in amusement. "Calling me by my first name is a little bold, don't you think?"

She paled, "But we've met."

"Really? Refresh my memory."

"I—Taichi, we went to school together—,"

He shrugged. "I went to a lot of schools. You'll have to be more specific."

"Grade school. We went to the same grade school." Her voice was faint with disbelief.

"Sorry," he grinned, "but I'm afraid that four years of drinking in college made me forget everything before high school graduation. And even that's kind of shady, if you know what I mean."

She just stared in shock.

"Well, I'm going to go to lunch now, and you're going to get back to work and try and think of a better pick-up line next time we meet. The whole 'we went to school together' routine gets old way too quickly, you know. But you're welcome to try again. Just get in line," he winked and walked out.

Passing a newspaper stand, he browsed through the selections, half-amused by the headlines of the tabloids who'd been the first to discover his highly publicized relationship with the daughter of Japan's Minister of the Interior, a man whose connections were particularly valuable in an international embassy. Kirkio ended up being more than he bargained for, and when he tried to cut it off like he did with all the other girls, she flipped out on him. She'd broken down into tears, sobbing all over and wailing that didn't he love her and didn't he want her to be happy and didn't he care at all about his future in-laws—

That made him snap. In-laws? Who the hell said anything about marriage? And then of course, she started crying even harder, having been convinced he was planning on proposing to her, to which he replied that he had no intention whatsoever of doing something so ridiculously insane as getting married.

Then she declared that she was in love with him. And not just any love, no—she was madly, deeply, desperately, torturously in love with him and would never again love another man like this so help her God.

_Whoa, double-take…say _what _How did _that_ happen?_ And he had stuttered, "Oh. Er—thanks?"

That was when she screamed at him for deceiving her and stringing her along, and left him.

This had all happened that very morning, actually, in his own office, with Koushiro as the uncomfortable witness. When she slammed the door behind her, they both could still her screeching and crying for a good five minutes more. And that was when Koushiro started his lecture about his boss's lifestyle. Like _he_ understood. Koushiro himself had been married for two years already. In fact, Taichi was dating Miyako when he introduced her to the redhead. The attraction was nauseatingly obvious, so he had no problem playing matchmaker. He'd never really been serious about Miyako, nor had she been too keen on him.

It was beginning to become a trend for him. Every time Taichi dated a girl, she usually ended up breaking up with him and going on to find the love of her life in some other guy. Not that Taichi complained about that. He was too used to it. Women were for his amusement, after all. He'd given up on wanting anything more.

So when Kiriko, who was the only woman he'd dated for so long a time (with a record-breaking six months), left, Taichi was actually relieved. She'd been such a headache. How could one woman be so difficult? And clingy? And…_mushy_?

He shuddered, thinking about it now. He was so glad to get out of that one before she dragged his unconscious body up the altar—and he wouldn't put it past Kiriko to try that.

At least now he had his single life back…. He was new to it, but it felt wonderful. And the chick in the blue navy suit was good enough to fool around with for now before he was ready to dive back into that world full throttle. He'd have to get her name when he went back, figure out where she worked and when she started.

Taichi grinned, pulling out his sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on as he happily strutted down the street.

_I love my job_.

* * *

He loved alcohol , too, especially after that night.

After his brunch, he went back to the office and looked up the girl's name: Tachikawa Mimi.

_The hell…?_

He spent the better part of the rest of the day brooding over how much of an idiot he'd acted towards her, why he hadn't recognized her (though in his defense, she had been covering up her features and they hadn't seen each other in nearly four years), and what she was even doing here, in Japan, and in his company. He found Koushiro in the afternoon and behind closed doors demanded if he knew Mimi was here.

"Oh, yes. She's moving back to Japan."

Taichi could only stare at him stupidly.

Then he grabbed his phone and shouted Motomiya Daisuke's name over the intercom. Within minutes, his young, obnoxious but silver-tongued deputy assistant wandered lazily into the office.

"You hollered, boss?" he drawled, leaning against the door.

"When did you hire Mimi and why didn't you tell me?"

He straightened. "Oh. _That_. I was wondering when you'd notice. Well, actually, she called me for a favor the other week, and I of course—being the gentleman that I am—obliged most willingly."

"She's a model," Taichi pointed out exasperatedly. "What the hell is she doing working in an embassy?"

"She was fired."

Koushiro choked, ducking his head behind his hands to hide his laughter. He didn't mean it intentionally, but as a close friend of the young woman's (especially since his wife was one of her best friends) this was incredibly unexpected for him. Not that he was really all that surprised. Mimi was beautiful, yes, but her personality—well….

Daisuke saw him and grinned, sharing his thoughts exactly.

"So she broke up with Michael and moved back here. She has no idea what to do, though, seeing as how her work experience doesn't involve much outside looking phenomenal when the camera flashes, so this was the least I could do."

"Well, why didn't she just come to me and ask for a job?" Taichi was a little bit offended. Here was one of his life-long childhood friends and she wouldn't even come to _him_ when she was in trouble? God, he wasn't that big of a jerk, was he? He still had a caring side, _somewhere_….

"Apparently, she did."

He stared. "Huh?"

"Well, she needed a job and she knew you were hiring—since you're always firing—so she called you like a billion times at your home phone plus another billion times here at work. But none of them worked. Either you weren't picking up, or somehow someone started screening your calls or something."

Kiriko!

_That little bitch!_

Taichi started laughing, collapsing into his comfy leather arm chair. Was that what was making her so edgy these past few days? She was jealous of an old school friend? _Dear God, my life's a freaking soap opera!_

Daisuke and Koushiro were staring at him oddly. He waved it off, still choking back laughter. "So then she went to you?" he asked Daisuke.

He nodded. "But now she's got a bucket load of problems just in her first week back home. She had all this trouble getting this job, her parents are mad at her or something, and she's drinking a hell of a lot more than she used to. Which, I don't know if you two are aware of this or not, is not a really good thing. A drunk Mimi is a dangerous Mimi. And then her apartment building flooded."

Koushiro, still grinning, now lost all amusement as he began to sympathize. He and Miyako had gone through one of those horrendous apartment building problems. It took them months to get resettled. "That's awful."

"Yeah. She's staying at a hotel now, I think."

"A hotel?" he looked surprised. "Why? She could stay with me and Miyako if she needs a place—,"

"Yeah, but she didn't want to disturb Miyako too much. You know, with the baby coming and everything."

"Oh." Koushiro was quiet. All right, so Mimi could still be sensitive when she wanted to be.

"I would've offered her my flat, but I don't think Iori and Ken would appreciate that." They were his roommates. Good, moral men who drove Daisuke nuts whenever he tried to bring a woman home. Poor chap. Taichi knew how that was. He used to room with his old friend Kido Jyou during the year right after college. That had been hell.

Then he got an idea.

"She can stay with me."

They stared.

"I mean, Kiriko's gone. I broke up with her this morning. My apartment's empty now."

They stared.

"I can be compassionate, too. I can help a friend in need."

Daisuke snorted in disbelief.

"Hey! Don't forget who I am!"

"That's exactly _why_ I am laughing at this idea, because I _know_ who you are. Seriously, Taichi. Think about what you're doing."

"Look, if she needs a place to stay, she might as well use my apartment. It's pointless for her to waste money on a hotel. Especially with the salary I'm paying her…." He frowned lightly. "Maybe I'll throw in a raise."

Koushiro shook his head. "Yes, and the rest of the employees will raise hell when they find out you've been playing favorites."

Daisuke shrugged. "Hell, I agree. It really would be easier on her. It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"Yes," Koushiro agreed reluctantly. "Though she's the last person to accept a charity case."

"And in that respect, you two are perfect for each other," Daisuke crooned at Taichi.

"Which brings to light another issue," the redhead immediately jumped in with wide eyes. "Taichi, tell me honestly. Could you control yourself living with a woman like her?"

He shot him a dirty look. "She's a _friend_. I don't do that kind of thing with _friends_."

"You better hope you don't. She's devastated about Michael." Daisuke nodded and folded his arms over his chest. "Never seen her that upset."

"Okay, I won't mention the 'M' word," Taichi promised. "It'll be like old times. The old gang, hanging out—sort of…."

"I say it's a done deal," Daisuke announced.

"I suppose it would be more courteous to make these life-altering decisions _with_ her instead of _for_ her, don't you think?"

"Koushiro has a point. Do you want me to send her up here so you can talk?"

"Nah, I'll call her," Taichi shook his head, recalling their last encounter in the elevator. He tried not to wince too openly. He wanted to apologize for that first, and that would have to be in a nice, formal setting. Classy, considering that was how she was, or else she wouldn't take him seriously.

Besides, he needed time to figure this out. He was still shocked that she was even back. But now that she was, well maybe he'd have an extra friend around. That was always nice, remembering the good ol' days.

So he asked her to dinner, sending a written apology note down to her small cubicle several stories below his feet.

She replied almost instantly: _Jackass. _

He responded: _Pick you up at eight?_

She agreed: _Buy me flowers, too._

Ah, Mimi, Mimi. How he missed someone who could talk back without fear. _Welcome home_, he grinned to himself.

* * *

She wore black.

He started to ask why, when suddenly he remembered Michael. Yes, the infamous break-up, much like his own with Kiriko. Mimi always was over-dramatic.

So she dressed up like she was going to a funeral, and he tried his best not to laugh when he pulled up in his cab at her hotel and found her waiting impatiently for him. She completely ignored his verbal apology, squealed over the flowers, and then complained she was hungry. So off they went.

There was something different about her this time. He could tell. It was in the way she moved and walked and talked. He couldn't figure out what it was. But it bothered him for some reason. She had this anxious underline to everything she did, like she was worried, upset, or both. Or even worse, angry. He knew she'd gone through a lot in just the past few months, but really…this was just so unlike her. The Mimi he knew was carefree and happy. This one looked like she was faking the whole thing. Even her laughter sounded unreal.

But he decided not to say anything, hoping that she would still accept his offer.

Only he never got around to it.

He kept getting distracted.

By her.

It was most unnerving.

"How's Hikari?" she asked during the appetizers. The restaurant he'd chosen was old and fairly empty that evening, being a workday, but it was quaint and quiet and perfect for a reunion between friends.

"Good. She and Willis moved to Kyoto two years ago when American's military relocated him."

"And she had another baby, right?"

"Right. A boy."

"Oooh, how cute," she smiled, her eyes twinkling. The candlelight from the table was reflecting her golden orbs, and he was entranced. _Of course, it could just be the wine._ "What's his name?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "Uh…."

Damn, what _was _the kid's name?

"Taichi…" she began warningly, frowning.

"Hey, I'm busy—,"

"Too busy to pay attention to your own family? If I remember correctly, you were even late to Hikari's wedding."

"_You_ weren't even there," he shot back.

"I was doing a photo shoot off the coast of South Africa. I was stuck in the middle of no where. But _you_ were working three streets away from the church and yet you still barely made it to witness the exchange of the vows."

"How do you know all these things?"

"Miyako."

"Ah." That woman was remarkable at getting news around the old gang, even though the group had been separated for nearly ten years now, living on a total of four different continents.

"I saw Yamato in New York in February," she announced over the main course. The restaurant was empty now, with just the two of them. It was getting late, since the chef had messed up their order and they were stuck waiting the longest. But it was okay. It was nice to sit and reminisce.

"Yeah?"

"He was talking about coming back to Japan to visit everyone, with the kids this time."

"And not Sora?" he asked casually.

Her voice dropped low and her eyes were wide with sadness. "I think they're getting a divorce, Taichi."

"Oh."

She glared at him. "Is that all you've got?"

"What do you want me to say?"

"Forget it."

They were quiet through dessert.

"I broke up with Michael," she said calmly once she had finished her éclair.

_Crap._ What was he supposed to say now? Well, it wasn't his fault, she'd brought it up. So he gulped down his wine and asked for another bottle.

"Oh. Sorry."

She sighed. "Don't be. I should have seen it coming."

"I just went through a break up this morning, too," he offered as consolation.

She smiled as though she understood his reasoning, however awful he was at getting the point across. He never had been the type to be sympathetic in a sensitive way, or even sensitive at all for that matter. In fact, Mimi didn't think she had even seen Taichi act serious. Well, except during their old reunions. But he'd stopped coming to those years ago. _I'm busy_ was always the excuse. She frowned at him now, slouching lazily in the chair opposite of her, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the detached, strange aura around him. Where was the happy Taichi?

"How are your parents?" she asked randomly.

"Er—fine?" he looked at her, confused.

She rolled her eyes. He was so out of touch. But then again, she winced, so was she….

They'd finished the meal, and were now drinking from a vintage wine bottle. It was an excellent year. The restaurant was closed and people were cleaning up.

She asked, "Is your dad feeling better?"

And then he remembered, realizing where she was trying to go with this. "Oh, yeah. Doctor said a strong diet and exercise plan will help him recover and prevent another attack. He's still suffering from my mother's cooking, though. And her nagging. She thinks he doesn't exercises enough. She's calling all the doctors around the city trying to gather enough statistics to scare him into buying a treadmill this Christmas. And she's been hounding after me, too, actually. She was raving about 'the privileges and responsibilities of the firstborn' or something last I called her."

Mimi took a long sip from her glass and smiled grimly. "Huh. Well, _my_ mother's back home telling everyone exactly what she thinks of me just because I won't settle down with one man and _especially_ because I won't marry the lawyer from her country club."

"Don't like lawyers?"

She smirked. "I don't care what men do, but I need chemistry, you know? And Mummy…she just doesn't understand why I can't get over Michael. She says he was a waste of my time anyway…. Maybe she was right. He did leave me. I don't know, maybe I expect too much from people…."

She sighed sadly, and emptied her glass. She really ought to stop. She had a habit of drinking herself into a stupor lately, but it was the only thing she could find nowadays to ease the misery that was becoming her life. And it was only when she was drinking that she could really talk.

Talking had always been so easy in front of Taichi, though. He understood, even if she wasn't entirely convinced he was paying attention. But she didn't care. She went on, just happy to have someone to rant to besides the mean voices in her head, feeling sorry for herself and having a pity-party with an attractive old friend.

If she had been sober, she would have seen the dangerous implications of such a combination. Thankfully, she was already gone by then.

She explained now, "So since then, I've been dating a lot to get over him, but I always end up finding something wrong in the next guy, and it drives my mother crazy. She claims she doesn't know what to do with me."

"You know, I think Princess Mimi actually _likes_ being rebellious," he grinned over the top of his glass.

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, anyway, I haven't spoken to my parents since. That's why I came here. To get away from it all."

"So how's it going?"

She grinned widely at him, took a long gulp of her wine, and felt the disguise just fall from her face. She dropped her head on the table and groaned. "Miserable. I'm _miserable_." See, _this_ was why alcohol wasn't good for her. She always ended up crying and remembering how horrible her life was becoming, even though they say this was supposed to make you feel better. _Feel better, my foot._ "I feel awful!"

He was laughing. "That bad?"

"I _hate_ being on my own."

"Funny. I can't stand being around people."

"I _hate_ being unemployed."

"Hey, you're working for me, remember?"

"No offense, Taichi, but filing isn't exactly what _I_ would call employment."

He only smiled and finished off his serving before helping himself to another. He really should stop. He was going to get way too intoxicated way too soon. Still…it had been such a long day. He deserved this, right? After all, he was one of the hardest-working bachelors in the city, sitting down to dinner with one of the most beautiful bachelorettes in the city. He'd have to be insane not to add alcohol to that mix.

But he'd never known she was such so susceptible to wine. It hadn't even been two bottles and two hours later yet, and she was completely gone. _Wow_.

"But you know, Taichi—," she was hiccupping now, smiling toothily at him, "—I'm not really that sad anymore."

"No?"

"Nah…. Because this, this is fun!" She motioned wildly at the city. "I really missed this, you know?" With a loud sigh, she stood up suddenly and swayed. He instantly put out his hand to steady her and she playfully hit his arm. "Silly, I'm a big girl! I think you can trust me to stand on my own feet," she laughed, throwing back her head.

The busboy glanced at them now, eyeing the drunken woman with a funny look on his face. He disappeared into the kitchen and a few minutes later was replaced by the owner of the restaurant. The balding man glowered unhappily at the remaining customers.

"We've been closed for the last hour," he snapped.

"Right, sorry, we were just leaving," Taichi quickly got to his feet, tossing a few bills on the table.

Mimi frowned at the tip. "Oh, Taichi, that's so little. Here, young man, take this for your fine, fine, _fine_ service." She staggered towards the owner and shoved her purse in his hands. "_Loooved_ the wine. Your boss has _excellent_ taste." She smiled, leaning heavily against his arm. "Absolutely _exquisite_ meal, too. I _adooore_ your chef. I _adooore_ you, too…Mr. …?"

"Come on, Mimi," Taichi interrupted hastily, pulling on her arm.

"Oh, but wasn't it lovely? It _was_, Taichi. This is absolutely _fabulous_ restaurant. I think I should buy it."

"Okay, that's enough." He steered her towards the doors, remembered something, and left her hanging onto the sill in a daze while he ran back and snatched her purse from the owner's hands, throwing him a "don't-even-think-about-it" look. He looked back at Mimi, saw that she was sagging against the doors with her mouth wide open, and raced back to her side. "Come on, I'm taking you home."

"Home? Where the hell is that? Where?" She screeched hysterically, latching onto his arm as he dragged her outside. The lights from the cars and the streetlamps blinded him for a second, and he winced, sensing a headache. He was horrible at bright lights when he'd been drinking….

Now to get a taxi.

Mimi already had this covered.

"_Taxi_!"

"Mimi—,"

"_Taxi_! Hey, _taxi_! _Over here_!" She yanked on Taichi's arm, wandering close to the edge of the sidewalk towards a lone taxicab on the other side of the street.

A car honked loudly and she cried out, clasping her hands over her ears. It sped by, the driver yelling something obscene in anger.

"Say it to my face, you jerk!" she hollered. "I'm trying to walk here!"

Taichi pulled her back. "Mimi, let it go." He waved at the taxi across the street and the car started.

She shuddered and collapsed against him. "I think I'm going to puke."

"Wait until we get out of the cab, will you?"

She burst into giggles as he helped her into the backseat. He ducked in after her, giving the driver directions to the hotel. The car pulled into the main highway, then suddenly swerved to the left as it switched lanes, throwing Mimi on top of him. He grabbed her by the arms instinctively, struggling back up and reaching for a seatbelt, when she wrapped her arms around his neck and nestled into his chest, her hair brushing his face. God, it smelled good. And she felt good too. Her skin was smooth and soft, like silk under his hands— _No! Stop! That's the alcohol talking, not you!_

She snuggled on top of him as he lay awkwardly against the door, one leg up on the seat and the other braced against the opposite door. He tried to prop them up with one arm, but his hand slipped against the leather seat edge and he fell down even further, until they were lying completely horizontal. She snaked herself between his legs, one foot swinging up and down as she smiled up at him wickedly.

"You're like a giant _pillow_!" she giggled. "I _looooove_ pillows. And I _looooove_ you, Taichi. You're such a good friend, you know? So _strong_ and _brave_ and _funny_ and _sweet_—,"

She accidentally kneed him in the crotch, and he winced. "Mimi—," he gasped, but she mistook his expression.

"And your _eyes_—God, they're gorgeous. Like chocolate. I _looooove_ chocolate…."

Before he could stop her, she was kissing him.

He could taste the alcohol on her breath, and he knew she was only doing this because they were both drunk, but since he was the more capable one when it came to holding his own alcohol, he knew it was his responsibility to stop this ridiculously stupid and incredibly reckless event from going beyond their control.

Being the caring, concerned friend that he was, he at least thought of stopping.

And being male, he kissed her back.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, he managed to pry his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open with one hand to find his driver's license. He threw it at the amused driver, who quickly turned the car around to follow the new directions.

Trying not to lose himself to the wonderful effects of drinking just yet, he couldn't resist teasing her, pulling her over him so he could run his mouth down the side of her neck. She fingered his jacket, pulling it off him and then starting on the buttons of his shirt. She managed to pull apart the first couple, licking his neck and playing an absolutely delightful game with his own tongue, when he (against his will) pushed her back to conserve the passion, and she gave a small cry of protest.

"Mimi, not in the car—,"

She pressed her mouth over his, interrupting his reasoning, pulling off his belt and tossing it aside (almost knocking out the now annoyed driver) before going to work on unzipping him. He groaned, desperate to continue but knowing this was not the place for such a purpose, and shoved her back, struggling to sit up himself. That was when the car stopped, and he tried to pay the driver while at the same time not return the kisses Mimi was placing all over him.

Ignoring the driver's words of gratitude, he turned and met Mimi's kiss full on the mouth, wrapping an arm around her and opening the door behind him with the other arm. They stumbled out and somehow managed to make it through the empty lobby and to the elevator. She paused then, breathing hard, to squint around the lobby.

"Where—?" she began, but he took her back in his arms and kissed her again, making her forget.

She sighed dreamily into his mouth, melting into him. An elevator opened then, and he staggered into it with her grasping him tightly, her legs around his waist and hands tunneling into his hair, covering every inch of his face with kisses. He couldn't see a thing nor did he care, so he relied strictly on memory to get around, punching a button with his fist and staggering out of the elevator and down the corridor when they arrived on the floor. Reaching into his pocket, he groped for the key, found it, and miraculously managed to open the door and get inside. She still hadn't gotten off him, nor did she seem to have any intention of getting down, so he aimlessly wandered towards the bedroom, tripped over the rug, and ended up on top of her on the floor by the bed.

Not that this bothered either of them.

"We really—shouldn't—do this—," he whispered into her ear as his hands worked on the zipper behind her back while she unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off him. She wiggled out of the dress, throwing it over her shoulders, revealing her strapless black lace bra. He immediately went for it, saying again, "We really shouldn't—,"

"Shut up," she murmured. He found the clasp at the front of her breasts, unhooking it gently. "You know you want to."

"That—doesn't mean—we should," he reminded, touching his mouth to the rise of her left breast.

She squirmed, "I don't care."

"You ought to," he said, running his hands down her waist and to the sides of her panties. He paused there, uncertain. "You ought to tell me to stop."

"Well, I'm not going to," she breathed, sucking in her breath as he slipped his fingers inside her underwear. She whimpered when he hesitated again, placing her hands on the sides of his pants. "So get this damn thing off."

He grinned, kissing and lifting her up to meet her on the bed.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Only Alive**

* * *

Our lovable child of Courage has gotten himself into quite the pickle. Let's all sit back and watch him try and get out of _this_ one. AU When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before….

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

**Author's Note:** Just want to point out that this story is exaggerated humor, though I suppose that's unnecessary to say.

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

_Mm…._

_Warm, sweet sunlight…._

_Warm, soft pillows…_

_Warm, thick blankets…_

She snuggled deeper into the sheets. _God, this feels better than—_

_Wait_.

Her eyes snapped open.

As far as she could recall, she didn't have windows in her room. And the bedroom didn't even face the sunrise. But then….

She slowly raised herself up on her elbows, looking around.

It was a large room, with the bed in the center along the wall opposite the door, which was currently closed. There was a night stand on the right side of the bed, and on it a digital clock told her that it was one-thirteen in the afternoon. She stared at the number, confused.

Then she sat up, horrified.

She was late for work!

_Again_!

"Dammit!" she cried, throwing the covers aside to scramble out of bed.

Then she froze.

And what the _hell_ was she wearing?

She looked down, seeing that she was now sporting a large men's flannel button down shirt with sleeves long enough to cover her entire arm (which it did). She tugged at it, bewildered

Her eyes widened with realization. Where the _hell_ were her clothes?

She looked around, checking the floor and under the bed and around the room again, but there was nothing. She felt a little sick now, terrified and worried. What happened? Where _was_ she?

_Oh, God—_

This was just like an indie film she saw about a girl who'd been drugged and smuggled into an foreign n country to work as an illegal sex slave for this guy with Mafia ties much more dangerous than _The Godfather_ could have ever imagined, and she had ended up falling for the son of the brothel owner but the complications of the business forced their love to go unexpressed and they were doomed for the rest of their sorry existences to watch each other be with other people but never with the one person they really, really loved and Oh, dear God, that was _such_ a powerfully sad movie….

She sat for a while, mulling over it, recalling the especially teary moments.

Then she remembered where she was—or, at least, that she didn't know where she was.

And it could very well be a sex slave ring.

With Mafia connections.

And a super hot love interest.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), Mimi's life did not work this way. Her fantasy was crushed like a bug on the most humid day of June with a knock at the bedroom door.

She answered fearfully, "Come in," wondering if this was to be her last moment on earth before the mobster came to deal with her.

Instead, she was greeted by an aging, balding man who was carrying a brunch tray. He placed the food on the night stand, nodding respectfully.

"Miss Tachikawa, good afternoon. I trust you had a pleasant rest?"

She stared at him blankly.

He must have had some experience in dealing with such expressions, for he was unaffected as he went on, "I've taken the liberty of telephoning your work to request a day off, to which they conceded. I also secured a personal taxi should you like to go out for the afternoon after eating. Also, Mr. Yagami would like to remind you that you are his escort for the charity dinner next week, and suggests you start right away to find a suitable dress. There are several department stores opening on the other side of town that seem appropriate for the occasion. Shall I telephone a few boutiques for you?"

She stared at him blankly.

He nodded.

"Very well then. I shall run the water for your bath and leave you to your brunch. Please let me know when to telephone the stores for you."

And with that, he slipped out just as easily as he had come in.

Mimi felt very strange.

_Mr. Yagami…?_

Then, would that make this—was she at Taichi's apartment? Or his _father's_ apartment? _Oh_ _my _God

_No, no, wait—calm down, Mimi, you've been to Hikari's parents' place and it looks nothing like this. This place is _way_ too modern._

Which would mean this really _was_ Taichi's apartment.

But how did this happen?

_Oh, Christ, did we—?_

The phone rang.

She jumped, startled, spotting the phone on the table by the bed. She grabbed for it, lifting it to her ear. "Hello?" she asked, voice thick with confused emotions.

"Mimi! How are you? Finally awake?" Daisuke's voice resonated in her ear, full of contagious cheerfulness. She had to smile at his sheer charisma.

"Daisuke, I'm fine."

"Oh, good. 'Cause with the way Taichi's describing it, you were totally wasted last night. I was worried."

She smacked herself.

_Great_.

"What else did he tell you?" she asked suspiciously.

"That you guys didn't sleep together."

She sighed loudly, immensely relived. "Is he sure?"

"Positive. He said you two got drunk and you threw up all over him, and that's why you're in his room since he spent the night on the couch. I was a little skeptical at first, naturally, especially after what Koushiro warned us about, but then again, having sex is not something Taichi forgets very easily, if you know what I mean."

Mimi grimaced. She did not want to know anything about her childhood friend's intimate life. And especially not from someone as unashamedly blunt as Daisuke, God bless his soul.

"But then why—?"

"—are you in Taichi's apartment?" Daisuke finished, guessing. "Well, he was supposed to have told you last night, but apparently you two got distracted, and he never got around to it. That's why I'm calling actually. He asked me to tell you that you can crash at his place if you want, you know, until everything gets settled at your own apartment building. You don't need to be spending money on a hotel anyway, not with the job you've got, and he also says to tell you he's not going to give you a raise because he won't give me one either, the cheap bastard…."

Mimi's eyes narrowed.

"Why isn't he telling me this?" she asked, annoyed. They can't have gotten so carried away last night that he'd neglect to tell her something as important as that.

"Too busy. Or at least, that's what he says. You know him. Well, we can usually guess about him…."

"I still don't understand."

"Hey, don't stress about it. Think of it as a free ride, and Taichi does have a pretty decent apartment. Don't you like it?"

She blanked. "I am _not_ living with him."

"Aw, come on, Mimi. If this is about what happened last night, Taichi says to assure you that he doesn't do that kind of thing with friends. And you guys are friends, aren't you? He just wants to help you out."

"Well…" she sighs, "as long as he knows he can't help himself…."

He chuckled. "Hey, so listen. D'you want to go get lunch? I get off in another hour or so. We can meet up somewhere."

She brightened. If there was one thing she loved, it was socializing. Unfortunately, since she'd gotten to Japan, very few of her friends had much time for her. Except Daisuke. He was so sweet from the very beginning when she'd called him from the airport (in fact, he was the only one who actually answered as she went through her phonebook, name by name, in vain) to when she needed a job and help finding a place to stay.

"Okay."

"Great. Give the phone to Li and I'll figure it out with him."

She frowned.

"Who?"

"Haven't you met him yet? Li's Taichi's chef and housekeeper. He's just about the coolest guy over fifty on the planet. Not even exaggerating."

_Oh!_ She glanced at the door to the bedroom. "Yes, I've met him. Just didn't know who he was…."

"Yeah, he has a habit of blending into the background. Scared the living shit out of me once when I was waiting for Taichi in the living room. But he cooks like a god. Anyway, put him on the phone, will you?"

She obeyed, getting out of bed and poking her head around the door to look first. Not seeing anyone yet, she stepped out into the hallway and walked to the living room. Across from her was the kitchen, and there was where she saw the man, busying himself with an unidentifiable dish on the stove. It smelled fantastic and she heard her stomach growl. Wincing, embarrassed, she cautiously went up to him and tapped him timidly on the shoulder.

He wasn't the least bit surprised, and after wiping his hands on his apron, he accepted the phone and she could hear Daisuke's voice blabbering something indistinguishable on the other end of the line.

Mimi quickly turned back around and returned to the bedroom, then stopped in the hallway. There was another bathroom in the corner, and across from it was another door. Another bedroom, perhaps? But Daisuke had said Taichi'd slept on the couch….

Curious, she tiptoed over and carefully pushed the mysterious door open.

The room was a _wreck_.

The sheets on the bed had been stained with what appeared to be paint, which was also smeared all over the walls. The mirror above the scratched dresser was cracked and the books and picture frames from the bookshelf near the window were strewn across the floor. There were scorch marks on the carpet and the closet—well, it stunk of something rather unpleasant.

Wrinkling her nose, she covered her mouth with her hand and immediately turned around to leave, then stopped with wide eyes when she saw what was on the back of the door. Pinned into the wood by a thumbtack was a picture of a smiling couple. The woman was gorgeous, with long black hair and bright green eyes. And the man—well, it _looked_ like Taichi, but his face had been cut out and the thumbtack was stabbing him in the chest, so Mimi wasn't very sure. All she knew was this was clearly evidence of unresolved issues with a former lover, and it was best she didn't get involved.

So she left quickly, shutting the door behind her, shaking her head. The messes Taichi got himself into so easily….

* * *

At lunch with Daisuke later, she described to her friend what she'd seen, and the handsome young man burst into tears of laughter.

"God, she's the _devil_. I tried to tell him, I really did," he said between choking fits of giggles. "Holy shit, the woman's insane…."

"So she's his girlfriend?"

"Was," Daisuke corrected, wiping his eyes. "They broke up yesterday. As you can surmise, she didn't take the news very well. And I guess when she moved her things out of his apartment, she decided to have a little revenge of her own. Man, she's messed up. I always told him she was bad news. Ah well…."

But Mimi was frowning.

That is, a part of her was amused, but another part was tugging at her heart uncomfortably.

She'd remembered more of what had happened last night as the day wore on, and she still couldn't believe she'd done those things, grateful it had ended when it did. But Taichi—well, if this was true, then he'd _just_ gotten out of a relationship that morning and from what she could recall, he hadn't put up much of a fight giving into the consequences of excessive alcohol consumption with her that very night. Had he not cared about his break-up at all? Did he care about anything anymore?

She squirmed in her seat.

Thankfully, Daisuke interrupted her thoughts.

"Are you okay? You've been kinda quiet," he asked, studying her closely.

She smiled.

"Just a slight headache," she assured.

"Hangover?" he asked, understanding.

She rolled her eyes. "Please don't remind me of that."

With a grin, he laughed aging. "I won't if you won't. I'm still trying to get the image out of my head…."

She smacked him upside the head. "Pervert!"

"I am not! I'm just creative!"

"Excuse me?" she cried.

"Relax, Mimi, you know I'd never do anything like that," he said, grinning widely.

She shot him a distrustful look.

"Sure."

"I'm hurt."

"Don't try that on _me_, Daisuke."

"Hey, look. You're my friend and I care about you. And I'm going to make it my responsibility to look out for you."

"I can handle things just fine."

"When there's not alcohol involved."

She slouched in her chair grumpily.

"You know, that's not healthy."

She pursed her lips. "_Eh_."

"'Eh'?" he repeated in shock. "_Mimi_!"

"What?"

"Well, that just settles it."

"Do I want to know how?"

He rolled his eyes. "Next time you get drunk, I'm getting drunk right there with you."

"Such dedication."

"A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." He paused, a smirk creeping back onto his face. "Even if it means he has to go as far as a threesome to keep an eye on a close friend and the consequences of her alcoholic-induced decisions. There're some crazy characters out there, after all—,"

She smacked him again.

"And you're the worst of them!"

* * *

Mimi was sprawled on the living room floor that evening, exhausted from the day's efforts. She'd been moving her things into Taichi's apartment, starting off slowly with Li's help, until she received an unexpected call from Miyako on her cell phone. Her friend was talking excitedly, so happy to hear that Mimi—now that she was temporary living with Taichi—would be closer to her and Koushiro. And to prove how easy communication would be, she promptly came over an hour later, dragging her fatigued husband with her. The women quickly put the men to work, having them lift the heavy boxes. Mimi herself helped a great deal, but none of them would let Miyako lift much of anything. Determined to remain cheerful but still a little irked by their stubbornness, Miyako busied herself rearranging and ordering them around, a task she got fond of far too quickly.

Finally, the four sat down to a late dinner which Koushiro had ordered from a nearby take-out restaurant, for Mimi had refused to let Li try and cook anything. After that, Koushiro and Miyako reluctantly went home, after the redhead promised to return sometime next week to help settle anything they'd missed. Mimi had to shove Li out of the apartment and back to his own home, insisting she'd be fine.

And finally, she had the place to herself.

All her boxes and larger furniture had been left in various locations throughout the hallway and living room, since the extra bedroom that Taichi's ex-girlfriend had ransacked had to be reconstructed before she could really move in. Li had said he would get started on that first thing in the morning, and Taichi had informed him already that he wouldn't mind staying her using his bedroom again that night until her own room was ready. She felt guilty making her friend take the couch for the second night in a row. So she decided they'd rotate.

At least, that was her plan.

And she'd also planned to let him know when he got home.

But now it was almost midnight.

And Taichi was not home.

And Mimi was getting sleepy.

So she was sprawled on the living room floor, exhausted and sleepy and vaguely aware of the Britcoms she was watching on the television. Every few minutes she'd check the time and then glance at the apartment door, waiting, wondering what on he earth he was doing this late, debating whether or not to just use his bedroom like he said she could. But she didn't want him to come home in the middle of the night and have to rearrange everything for himself, and no doubt he worked too hard every day to be bothered with something like that. So she didn't mind staying on the couch. Only problem was, she didn't want to be asleep when he came home and found her on the sofa.

But it really was getting late, and try as she might she couldn't stay awake. She tried everything she could think of, but it didn't work. Instead, she dragged herself up onto the couch, curled up, and stared mindlessly at the television.

And she fell asleep like that, dreaming about that one gorgeously blue-eyed actor in _Coupling_, fantasizing having him on an uncharted island all to herself, until the bitch who took her place at the modeling agency came and tried to seduce him away, and Mimi smashed a stick against a rock and tried to stab the mean girl in the back, only to be persuaded otherwise by the Englishman who calmly murmured her ear, promising he'd never love anyone but her for as long as they both lived and even longer than that, because what they had was special and real and beautiful and nothing, nothing on earth would end it….

"Oh…Taichi…."

She frowned, blinking awake in the darkness.

The hell…?

She looked around, immensely confused, and discovered to her horror that there were two shadowed figures pressed up against the wall of the front hall, the door still open behind them, locked in a passionate, full-fledged make-out session.

Mimi froze, knowing she had to get away but knowing there was no where for her to go. Unless she could sneak past them and into the bathroom. And then she could hide in there until—

And now they were coming near the couch.

_Oh, Christ, why _me

She scrambled off the sofa, ducking behind it. Well, at least it was too dark for them to see her, or her to see them. Though she certainly didn't need her vision to understand what the giggles and whispers and gasps meant. Wanting to gag, she sank to her knees and began to crawl away, careful. She made a mental note to bang her head on something hard to get rid of those images and sounds, shuddering just to think of what was happening behind her. Thank God, she'd woken up in time to get away. Now all she had to do was safely get to a sound-proof shelter and then she—

"Who the hell is she?"

_Damn_.

Caught, Mimi quickly jumped to her feet, standing awkwardly in the shadows of the hallway, less than two feet from the bathroom. One more second and she could have been saved, but no, Fate was not on her side that day. Or any day lately, for that matter….

Dazed and covered in lipstick, Taichi struggled up as far as he could go with the girl straddling him, peeking over the top of the couch and squinting into the darkness. The woman who'd spoken was pointing an accusing, shaking finger at Mimi, who tried to look as innocent and clueless as possible.

"Who—?" he gasped, bewildered.

The woman glared at him.

"Yagami Taichi, you are a _pig_."

He protested, "She's no one important—,"

Mimi held her breath, the words stinging a little too harshly. She took a step back, confused.

When his last comment apparently failed to produce the results he wanted, he sat up and took the woman in his arms tightly. "I swear, baby, she's just—,"

But she cut him off with a slap across the face, staggering off of him and grabbing her blouse, purse, and shoes from the floor.

"They're all right about you, you know. You're popular and powerful, sure, but underneath it all, Taichi, you are absolutely worthless."

Taichi didn't reply, but even in the dark, Mimi could see the way he glared at her as she walked out, slamming the door behind her. Grumbling, he rolled off the couch and stomped into the kitchen, holding a hand to the side of his face. He yanked open the freezer door, fumbling for some ice, then accidentally dropped a handful on the ground and with a yell, slipped and disappeared behind the counter with a painful thud.

Mimi snapped out of her daze and went to him.

"Taichi—,"

"I'm fine," he interrupted, grumpy.

She took him by the arm, helping him up. "Let me look at your face," she tried to say, but he rudely shoved her back.

"I said I was fine."

She pressed her mouth into a thin line.

"I'm just trying to help."

He didn't say anything, so she didn't either. Instead, she reached around him and wrapped up some ice in a paper towel, then took him by the hand and made him sit down on a chair by the dining table, instructing him to hold the makeshift ice pack to his cheek while she went to find something to apply to the scratch the woman's fingernails had left on his face. She came back with an alcohol swab, and found him sitting with his elbows on the table and his face in his hands.

She stopped. "What she said isn't true," she told him seriously.

He glanced up at her, unconvinced.

"No offense, Mimi, but you haven't been in Japan in how long? We're all different."

"No, we're not. We've just grown apart." She perched herself on the table, leaning over to gently brush the swab over the bleeding scratches. He flinched, making a face at the pain, but otherwise remained still enough for her to work.

"What are you doing up?" he asked after a moment.

"Waiting for you."

He turned his head, staring at her curiously.

"Well, we haven't seen each other since—," she stopped here, frowning. Best not to bring that up…. "I thought we ought to have a talk about this situation."

"I told Daisuke to tell you about it. Didn't he call—?"

"Taichi, I'm living with _you_. I would have preferred hearing news like _that_ from _you_."

He sighed.

"Yeah, well, after last night I didn't think—,"

At last, she put the pieces together.

She goggled at him. "Wait—didn't you just break up with what's-her-face yesterday morning? And then didn't we almost—you know—yesterday night? And now did you come in here ready to—?"

He blinked at her, expression blank.

"Yeah. So?"

"Taichi!"

"What?"

"You can't do things like that! You need time to heal after ending a relationship—,"

"Heal?" he repeated, shocked. "What's there to heal from?"

She couldn't believe him.

"You can't possibly be _this_ insensitive."

He rolled his eyes.

"Not you, too…."

"What are you talking about?"

"Lately, that's all I've been hearing from people, from Hikari and Koushiro and now you. How I'm deliberately digging my own grave with the way I choose to live and how—,"

"That's because you are! Taichi, you can't do this to yourself. It's unhealthy."

He pushed himself out of the chair, making for his bedroom. "_Eh_."

Mimi groaned.

This was most definitely going to be an interesting stay at his apartment. But she was suddenly unsure she would like the kind of interesting it was shaping up to be.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Only Alive**

When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before….

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

Mimi definitely liked the interesting it turned out to be. 

It had been almost two months now, and she was in love with the apartment, with Li, and with the fact that Taichi was virtually non-existent. She had absolutely nothing to deal with and she absolutely adored it all. She had her own room at the flat, now that Taichi had finally gotten people to come in and fix it up for her; she had her work, where she would spend hours goofing off with Daisuke and some of her coworkers (who turned out to be rather fun); she had her cooking, a talent she picked up again while getting to know Li a bit better; she had her afternoon luncheons with Miyako, which had become a regular ritual now that her expecting friend had a woman to confide in rather than her desperately confused husband and his equally clueless friends; and she had her television soap operas.

Life could not possibly get any better.

Well, fine, that was a lie.

Life could get a hell of a lot better if she could get a man.

Or even some harmless sex.

Right.

Scratch the former—she really just wanted the sex.

And when she thought about it too much, she remembered Michael and how it good it was and how suddenly it ended. And when she thought about _that_ too much, she felt sad and pathetic and sick of how she was moping and carrying on.

She tried her best not to show it, to keep all this a secret.

Instead, she focused her attentions on—

"_Daisuke_!"

The youth jumped uneasily, jumping to his feet. He looked guilty, and it was appropriate that he should be so. The man had just been caught flirting with one of the interns at the embassy by his boss, who had been waiting for the paper files he'd sent Daisuke for since eight that morning. It was now one in the afternoon, and Daisuke was working his way up to a cell phone number when Taichi snapped and stormed through the lobby to strangle his assistant himself.

Mimi, who'd been passing by to deliver some messages to the receptionist for transfer or filing or whatever the hell they did with the messages she took (she didn't particularly care), overheard Taichi's yelling and immediately guessed who was on the receiving end. It wasn't very hard. Only one person could make Taichi snap in public like that.

She dropped the papers she carried on the receptionist's desk unceremoniously and ran towards the source of the racket. (All the other employees—including the intern he'd been flirting with—were running the other way for safety reasons.)

"Do you ever even work? What the hell do I pay you for?" Taichi was shouting by the time she reached them.

"I make this place look attractive," Daisuke smirked back, jokingly.

Taichi was completely not amused.

"Daisuke—,"

But the handsome young man knew how to work bad situations to his taste, and he confidently and smoothly interrupted, "Look, if this is about those files, I already talked to the French ambassador myself. Apparently his daughter is a student teacher at my old secondary school, and I pulled some strings to get her a permanent position in the school's administration and the ambassador was very—shall we say—_appreciative_ of that small token of friendship. He's calling you in exactly," and here Daisuke stopped to check his watch, "two minutes to reschedule an appointment with you and I would rather not like pears in my thank-you fruit basket. They aren't compatible with my tummy."

Only Daisuke could say "tummy" and pull it off.

He was still smirking when the phone in Taichi's office suddenly rang, and Taichi's face paled. His mouth dropped open, as though trying to find something to get Daisuke in trouble with, but then jumped and dove for his office, yelling for his secretary to take the call.

Daisuke grinned, shamelessly impressed with himself.

Mimi giggled.

"You are incredible," she laughed.

He noticed her watching then and winked, crossing his arms over his chest. "He's just jealous because I can multi-task. Got the ambassador _and_ the girl," he added, waving a scarp piece of paper with the intern's name and number on it.

She shook her head.

"You arrogant, sorry bastard."

"No, see, that's where you're wrong," he corrected. "I'm not sorry at all."

"Have you made it your mission to date every girl in the embassy?" she asked.

"Soon it will be your lucky day," he promised.

She made a face, pretending to vomit.

"No, seriously," Daisuke said. "You know how tomorrow's that big social gala thing for the American diplomat everyone's been talking about these past few weeks?" She nodded and he went on, "I'll be your escort."

She smiled.

"You're incredibly economic about your dating proposals, aren't you?"

"I'm a man of few words."

"That is such bull."

"Pick you up at six?"

"I'm going with Taichi."

He stared, masking his surprise quickly.

"And…does Taichi know this?"

"Of course, he does," she replied cheerily, not picking up his astonished tone. "He mentioned it two weeks ago. We had fun at that last charity dinner we went to, so I'm his escort now to all those dress-up things. Besides, I get an excuse to wear my old modeling dresses." She grinned devilishly as she sashayed away. "You should see the one I'm wearing tomorrow night…."

He gulped.

"Hot damn."

* * *

At about six the next evening, Mimi was having difficulties with her curling iron. It had been yers since she had to style her hair herself. At least, to style it to the extravagant extent she needed it to look for tonight. She knew how important these kinds of public shows were to Taichi. As one of Japan's progressive and leading diplomats, he was under a lot of pressure to represent the nation in a positive and patriotic way. He needed to be seen at all the right events with all the right people in all the right ways. It was thus especially important that whomever he took to these gatherings looked the part as well. 

So, she'd opted for smooth silk wine red gown, the color of the rising sun. It was strapless and jeweled with a gorgeous white satin flower over her left breast, and she wore the diamond train earnings and matching white heels to compliment it. She was trying to wear her hair in the traditional style of her native country, with a few modern embellishments in the long bangs she kept down to frame her oval face.

Only her styling iron was giving her more than its usual share of trouble.

Finally, she grew frustrated enough to call Miyako over for help.

Her loyal friend arrived promptly to assess and repair the damage. Koushiro, who wouldn't be coming to the gala since he was still recovering from a mild case of the flu, tagged along to give Taichi some last minute advice and pointers, though the communication was terribly hindered by the redhead's stuffy nose and lack of concentration.

Taichi himself had withdrawn from his friend, wary of catching the sickness.

"Everything'll be fine," he promised. "And Daisuke's covering for you."

Koushiro groaned. "Oh, _God_…."

"You two had really better stop treating him like that," Mimi chided as she stepped out of the bedroom finally. She was draped in an expensive white faux-fur shawl, which hid just about everything of her gown but kept her warm (and that was really all that mattered to her now that she had no one to model for anymore). "What he pulled off today with that French ambassador just proves how important he is to the embassy, and you both know it."

But Taichi couldn't answer.

He stared at her.

Her honey eyes twinkled with genuine happiness, her red lips full and rosy cheeks vibrant. Everything about the way she held herself was like a complete transformation from the unstable wreck he'd found that night they'd gone to dinner so many weeks ago. She moved lightly and spiritedly, as though completely lacking the past that had to still be haunting her. She couldn't just let go of what happened to her that quickly. He couldn't believe she could have. Even he had trouble with certain parts of his own past, and those parts occurred more than ten years ago. Mimi couldn't have forgotten everything in the past ten months of her life.

Or if she had, she was hiding it awfully well.

Even he was fooled.

Even _she_ was fooled.

Well, almost.

Because when Taichi took her hand and carefully, tenderly led her down to the lobby and into the limo once it arrived, she felt Michael in his touch, and for one terrifying second, she nearly broke down again.

She managed to stop herself, though, by reminding herself how important tonight was for Taichi and how much he was counting on her to be presentable and responsible. And she wasn't about to let him down, not after all he'd done for her since she came back to Japan. Not just any friend would have given up half his apartment for someone like her.

But Taichi had.

And now that she thought about, she'd never really properly thanked him.

* * *

The gala itself went on without problems. 

People arrived more or less on time and everyone looked ravishing. Mimi received several compliments on her gown, and she glowed in them. It was incredibly satisfying to be noticed again. Having to work for a living was awful enough; it was days like today that made it worth it, somehow. She enjoyed being flattered, being admired. It made her feel good about herself.

And somewhere in the back of her mind she knew there was something off color about that false satisfaction, something that testified perhaps negatively about her self-esteem, but when things took a turn in that direction, she did her best to avoid them. At least until tonight was over.

She saw Daisuke and his date (the pretty intern) and spoke with both of them for a few minutes, while Taichi disappeared to speak with the American diplomat they were honoring. Then Taichi reappeared just in time to escort her to their assigned table as the actual ceremony began.

There were a bunch of talks about peace and prosperity and good feelings of cooperation and consideration between the two countries represented (Japan and the United States), followed by toasts and speeches and various forms of political ritual. Taichi himself was involved in several of those, but only for brief moments at a time.

But there was that one time when he was called to the podium at the head of the room to deliver a small introduction of the main speaker, and while he was waiting his turn to the microphone, Mimi did notice the way one of the American deputy assistants to the diplomat leaned so casually into Taichi as she spoke into his ear.

The woman touched his shoulder with one hand and let the other linger near his free arm. She turned into him almost suggestively as she spoke, eliciting smiles from him when she made a humorous remark.

Mimi watched as Taichi grinned back, whispering into the woman's ear. Right when they parted, she saw her lightly touch his forearm, smiling up at him.

Mimi suddenly lost her appetite.

Then the speeches were over and she didn't have to think about it anymore.

Next came the actual serving of the dinner, an extravagant show with uniformed waiters and several sources of the meal. Taichi returned to the table for the first appetizer, then was called away again in the middle of the soup. Mimi didn't mind, pleased to see how popular he was. This had to mean many good things for the Japanese embassy. She could see why these sorts of gatherings were so important; one could make or break several connections just by showing up and mingling.

So she chatted with the others who were seated with her at the table, careful to make sure his plate was always full in case he had time to come back and grab a few bites to eat before running off to the next important person or the next urgent conversation.

Half-way through the third course, however, Mimi grew worried. She anxiously looked about to keep tabs on where Taichi had gone, trying to keep up with him. But it seemed that every time she looked he was somewhere else. She couldn't keep it straight.

By the fifth course, she had almost given up.

She ate her desert alone.

It was very chocolaty.

Then the dance floor opened up. The American diplomat and his wife were the first to dance, their waltz signifying an open invitation for the other guests to join them, as tradition entailed. Many of the guests did so, laughing and gossiping all the while. Mimi caught a glimpse of Daisuke with his date, as well as a few other familiar faces from the embassy.

Men came up to her and shyly asked for a dance, but etiquette reminded her to decline and wait patiently. As Taichi's escort, she waited for Taichi to come back and ask her to dance. Then she could finally get herself at that cute blond social worker across the hall who kept glancing at her….

So when she looked up to decline the offer of a second plate of chocolate mousse pie from a sharply dressed waiter and happened to glance over the man's shoulder to inadvertently see Taichi dancing with the diplomat's daughter, she was sure how to react.

She just sort of sat there.

Alone.

Surprised.

And…hurt.

Worst of all, she didn't understand why she felt that way at all. It wasn't as if this were a—

Of course, it wasn't. Friends who joined each other for a dress-up evening out were free to do whatever they liked once they got to where they were going. Then again, most friends would have made some indication of at least acknowledging each other's presence while they were there.

It really, honestly didn't matter to her if he were chatting up other guests or eating with more important people or dancing with prettier girls.

He could have at least told her.

She wouldn't have come if she'd known she'd end up being a bother to him.

Feeling stupid and foolish in her stiff, tight red gown, Mimi got up and marched as best she could in her white heels towards the doors of the ballroom.

Someone tapped her shoulder just as she was about to ask the man in charge of the coat room for her shawl.

Relieved, smiling to herself, she turned around, about to tease him—and then she stopped.

Daisuke smiled at her uneasily.

"Leaving without goodbye, are you?"

She just stared at him.

"You owe me a dance," he said, holding out his hand.

She didn't take it.

He lowered his voice.

"Mimi…."

She glanced at Taichi over the top of Daisuke's shoulder and blamed the alcohol in her system for the way her eyes pricked and her breath shortened with resentment and confusion and just plain hurt.

Daisuke understood. He took her by the arm gently. "Come on. Let's get out of here."

He called a cab and took her back to Taichi's apartment, where they sat in the living room for a while before Mimi announced in a mechanic voice that she was tired. He took her shawl and shoes and she went into the bathroom to change. He waited in the hallway until she came out. When she was ready for bed, he knocked on her closed bedroom door.

A few moments later, she answered, eyes bleary and tired.

"Do you want me to stick around for a while longer?" he asked kindly.

She shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure? I know you were looking forward to—,"

"—a complete disaster…. I'm really stupid, aren't I?" she mumbled.

He winced. "Taichi's just…," he searched for an appropriate word and came up lacking, "…_Taichi_, really…."

She shook her head.

"Thanks for taking me home."

He smiled.

"No problem, Mi."

She leaned up and kissed his cheek, and he hugged her back. Then he turned to go.

"Daisuke," she called suddenly, not knowing why.

He turned, looking tired. Rubbing his eyes, he offered a small smile, strolling across the corridor to meet her in front of her door where she stood stiffly.

"Do you want something? I can get you a drink or something to eat. It might make you feel better."

She stared at him, whatever she meant to say frozen on the tip of her tongue. Instead, her gaze was fixated on the way the dim light from the kitchen swept across his face, flickering over his straight jaw, firm chin, his bright brown eyes that smiled on their own as though they held a secret. She saw the sharp, strong features of his face, the deep tan of his skin, how his maroon hair stuck to his neck and forehead from sweat. Her gaze inadvertently wandered down.

"Mimi?" he asked, snapping her out of her fantasy.

She was grateful that the light only fell on him, so that her blush went undetected. She licked her lips nervously, glancing down the silent hallway.

Taichi's door was closed.

She met Daisuke's steady gaze again. "Daisuke, can you turn off the kitchen light?"

He glanced curiously at the kitchen. "Sure, but—,"

"I can see it through the crack in my door and it bothers me," she explained.

With a shrug, he nodded, walking over to the kitchen to flick the light switch. He looked back at her in the darkness. "Better?"

"Much."

And then he felt her tongue on his face, running across his cheek and tickling his ear.

He stood in shock, too frozen to move, but then violently winced, staggering back. His mouth opened, but the words didn't come. Instead, she slipped her tongue into his parted lips, catching his. Her hands held his face, and she stepped backwards towards her bedroom, forcing him to stumble after her. He managed to grab the doorposts to her room and pull back, gasping, "What are you—?"

She merely kissed the protests away and ran her fingers over his arms, slipping under his shirt, touching her lips to the crook of his neck and dragging them down to his collarbone. With shaking hands, he reached out and pulled her arms away from him.

"Mimi, are you crazy?" he managed to choke out, mind reeling from the kiss. He could still taste her, could still feel the way she'd pressed herself against him, so tightly he felt her heart beating against his. Of course, her heart wasn't pounding nearly as fast as his, and he was certain his was thumping loud enough for her to hear. It was the only thing _he_ could hear. And the only thing he could see was her slender silhouette, standing still before his gaze.

Daisuke frowned, still trying to catch his breath, and was about to demand an explanation for her ridiculously unexpected behavior when he heard the distinct ruffling of clothes as her bathrobe dropped to the floor, revealing an extremely flattering silk nightgown.

He went numb.

"Mimi—," he started to warn, panicking, but she interrupted him with a passionate kiss, her arms slipping around his neck and bringing him down closer. His mind commanded him to stop this at once, terrified, but his body didn't respond to reason. Instead, his arms rose to tentatively rest on her waist, and he sucked in his breath when he felt the thin material of her undergarments. His thoughts wandered to what this silk night dress was hiding, but before he could let his imagination run riot, he stopped himself in horror.

He pushed her back again.

"Stop," he said, foolishly aware of how weak his refusal sounded. He winced, turning to keep his gaze away from her, knowing what another look at her soft features might lead to.

She was breathing as hard as he was, but she said nothing. Her eyes were shining brightly in the darkness. He glanced at them and then looked away sharply, not trusting himself to see what was in her honey gaze. Whatever it was, it was wrong, and he wouldn't do this to—

He froze, a new thought surfacing in his mind, a revelation that shocked the air out of him for a moment.

He whirled around.

"Is this about Taichi?" he demanded, the words spilling out before he could think.

She didn't even react.

"Well, is it?"

"Daisuke," she said lowly, "shut that door and get into bed."

He didn't have to be asked twice.

As soon as he turned the lock, she attacked him, throwing herself so suddenly into his arms that he fell back against the door. But he didn't care, didn't even allow himself to focus on the way his shoulder throbbed from the impact. He centered his concentration entirely on her, lavishing attention all over her perfect lips, her neck and breasts….

He wasn't sure how it happened, but not soon enough he had her beneath him on the mattress while she teased him with her tongue, kissing his forehead, his face, his mouth and neck, trailing down his chest. Her fingers unbuttoned his shirt, raking around to his shoulders and following down to his lower back. He groaned, feeling himself begin to react to her, inhaling her delicious scent as he bit down on the curve of her neck. She gently pushed him on his back, moving to straddle him low over his hips, trailing her mouth over his chest. She brought her lips back to his finally, kissing him hard, passionately, and he returned it just as fiercely.

And then she pulled back, gasping deeply, and stared down at him.

"Dammit!" she shrieked, slamming her fist into the pillow, just narrowly missing Daisuke's head as he ducked out of the way.

She rolled off him, furious. After a long moment, he sat up, bracing himself with his arms.

She had her face buried in her hands, her knees drawn up to her chin. Her hair was tousled beautifully over her bare shoulders and he smiled, wiping his mouth, breathing hard.

"It is, isn't it?" he asked after a moment.

When she didn't respond, he moved to sit next to her, leaning with his back against the wall and his legs dangling lazily over the side of the bed. He was silent for a while, using the time to gather his senses and calm himself. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, brushing back damp strands from his face. He thought of speaking again, but this time she beat him to it.

"I don't deserve it, Daisuke, but please forgive me," she whispered into her fingers, too afraid to look at him. "I never wanted to hurt you or take any sort of advantage of you. It was awful of me. I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it. I understand."

She exhaled slowly, rubbing her face.

"God, you must think I'm an idiot."

He smirked, "Hardly."

"I can't believe I would sink that low over some—," she broke off abruptly, turning her face away and wrapping her arms over her chest tightly.

He stopped in his rummaging in the dark for his shirt and turned to wrap an arm around her smooth shoulders, bringing her in comfortingly, shaking his head. "You were upset. It was only natural of you to act on those emotions so impulsively."

She lifted her head to stare at him in surprise.

He grinned. "I know. I scare myself sometimes when I get this philosophical. But relax; it's nothing permanent." That teased a small smile out of her lips and he was satisfied. "Listen, I won't tell him."

"Thank you," she whispered.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

"You can always count on me, Mimi."

She smiled again and he winked, pushing himself to his feet. She surprised him by catching his wrist in her hand, pulling him back down for a kiss on the cheek.

"You're pretty amazing, you know that?"

"'Course I do," he reassured. "A natural girl magnet, that's me."

She smirked. "Keep kissing girls like that and you'll have a hard time keeping them away."

"That," he tapped her nose with his finger, "was just for you, my dear. I only save my best work for a girl who's worth it."

She laughed, falling into his embrace.

* * *

"—and then this morning there he is, sitting at the table and eating breakfast with Mimi and Li, the three of them. Lately he's always over, and I mean _always_. What are they, best friends? You know before this happened they were barely even acquaintances, until _I_ introduced them and now they're off bonding and being friends and having breakfast together in _my_ apartment—I mean, it's _my _apartment, for Christ's sake! Did it not occur that perhaps _I_ would have liked to eat something, that maybe—," 

Koushiro sighed. He was used to Taichi's ranting, knew that it was the only way the young man began his day before he was ready to face work. That in mind, the redhead didn't normally mind listening knowing it was better Taichi let everything out to his friend before taking it out on some other poor soul (and he'd much rather not risk Japan's diplomatic future over something like that). And it didn't help that Koushiro was still reeling from that blasted flu...

This rant wasn't any more off-beat than normal, but after twenty minutes of listening to Taichi grumble about Daisuke's constant hanging around his apartment instead of the summary of last night's gala with the American diplomat as Koushiro had originally expected to hear, Koushiro began to suspect that perhaps there was something more to this than either of them knew.

So he began to pay closer attention, and when Mimi's name popped up finally, he put two and two together and sat back in surprise.

Koushiro stared at him.

"Taichi—are you jealous?" he asked finally.

He frowned. "Don't be stupid. How can a person be jealous of two friends? It's _Daisuke_. Everything he knows, _I_ taught him."

His friend shrugged and looked away.

"Well, I just assumed—,"

"Never assume, Koushiro."

He suppressed a smile, feeling evil. "Then what the guys say happened last night probably never happened…."

Taichi immediately turned on him.

"What do they say? What happened?"

But Koushiro was shaking his head. "Nothing, really. Just some ridiculously wild rumors about Daisuke disappearing with her in a cab late into the gala, then his being at your place for breakfast so unexpectedly—well, all their get-togethers do seem _awfully_ coincidental to me—but of course, we must _never_ assume."

Taichi was too much in shock to detect Koushiro's teasing sarcasm.

Koushiro just wanted revenge for having to listen to Taichi complain so long.

He enjoyed manipulating Taichi's perception of life and friends.

Then they both heard Daisuke's voice cheerily greeting his colleagues as he made his way through the halls outside in the lobby, and they saw their maroon-haired friend walking happily, mingling with the others in a more jovial manner than usual.

Taichi's jaw dropped even lower.

Koushiro coughed to mask his snicker.

Then Mimi herself appeared, dressed in a flattering light brown business suit, fiddling with her sunglasses as she stepped out of the elevator on the other side of the hall. She stopped to pocket her sunglasses, poking around in her purse for a minute, and then looked around the floor. Her eyes caught Daisuke's at the same time he spotted her, and they both grinned at each other like they shared a secret, a special kind of understanding, and they quickly headed towards each other.

Taichi threw himself in between them.

Literally.

Mimi stepped back, stunned, and even Daisuke faltered, confused. His confusion melted into alarm when his boss turned to shoot him a nasty glare. He balked, face paling, but before he could ask what was the matter, Taichi barked a sharp order at him—something about a telephone call to the American embassy that was long overdue—and sent him away.

Then he turned on Mimi, who was regarding him with a mixture of shock and bewilderment. He tried hard to keep his temper in check, forming fists with his hands.

"Slept well last night, did you?" he snapped rudely at her.

She stared right back at him, not breaking her gaze once. "I slept fine, thanks," was the short reply.

Koushiro was by their side by now, surveying the scene with mixed emotions.

"I bet you did," Taichi added nastily.

Her lips parted in surprise, but she stared back in utter confusion, not following him in the least. When her gaze flickered to Koushiro, however, something fell across her eyes and she seemed to understand. She closed her mouth in a thin line, frowning disapprovingly.

"It's none of your business, I should think," she retorted.

"Everything that happens in _my_ apartment is _my_ business," he declared.

She smirked at him boldly.

"Then everything that happens in _my_ room is _my _business."

And with that, she spun on her heels to catch up with Daisuke.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Only Alive**

* * *

AU When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like that's stopped him before….

* * *

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

**Author's Note**: Totally did not mean for this chapter to get so long, but I guess I should go ahead and tell you the story's coming to an end now...

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through _

_So put me in the river and let me say I do _

_I'm only alive with you _

-"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

The following week at Taichi's flat was passed in cold detachment. Neither of the tenants looked at, spoke to, or acknowledged one another for eight straight days, leaving poor Li to mend the broken bridge as best he could whenever he was present. 

Finally, Koushiro took it upon himself to fix the problem.

"He's not a forgive-and-forget kind of person," he told Mimi during a lunch break at the embassy. The young woman sipped her tea and rolled her eyes. "Listen, Mimi, you've got to understand what he's been through."

"What _he's_ been through?" she stared at him in astonishment.

He met Taichi for some drinks after work.

"She's not a woman who's looking to be controlled," he said. Taichi sipped his beer and rolled his eyes. "Listen, Tai, you've got to understand what she's been through."

"What _she's_ been through?" he gaped at him in horror. "Remind me, Koushiro, just how long have you been my friend?"

"She is not the enemy, Taichi."

A cell phone rang.

Everyone in the bar scrambled for their pockets, searching for the ringing phone. Koushiro nodded at Taichi. "I think it's yours."

"I turned my cell off," Taichi dismissed easily.

"That isn't your cell's ring. That's the beeper."

The diplomat searched his coat pocket and pulled out his flashing beeper. It was Hikari. He frowned, curious. "Wonder what this is about..."

"Take the call," Koushiro said. "I'll take this," and he gestured at the drinks they'd been having.

Taichi said his gratitude and slipped out of the bar, stopping at an empty street corner to dial his sister's number on his phone. He waited impatiently while it rang, shifting his feet to keep warm during the chilly evening.

Finally, he heard a click and said brightly,

"Hikari-,"

He was answered by a scream.

Taichi nearly flung his phone away, ears stinging. He clamped a hand over his forehead, feeling a headache coming on, and returned the phone to his now tender ear. By that time, his little sister had retrieved the phone from her child's hand, though Taichi figured she wasn't so little anymore. Married with two kids…. He shuddered instinctively. _What a nightmare_. "Oh, Taichi, I'm sorry about that," she said, out-of-breath. "It's all right," he said, tugging at his ear painfully. "What's up?"

"I didn't mean to bother you like that, but..."

"Hikari, just tell me. Is it Dad?"

"What? Oh—no, no, he's fine. They're great, Taichi, both of them."

"Then what?"

She hesitated, "Willis came home yesterday, off another leave."

"Right. I remember," he lied. He really ought to pay more attention to his family.

"He spent a week in New York, visiting Sora and Yamato. And…Taichi, I don't think it's going well at all. They're separated now, but…I don't know."

Taichi leaned back against the wall of the store on the corner. He kicked at the gravely sidewalk, listening silently.

"And I was wondering if..."

"You want me to talk to him?"

He heard her sigh softly.

"He doesn't listen to anyone else but you. You know that."

"Doesn't mean he'll listen this time."

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't at least try."

"Hikari, I know you mean well, but this isn't our business."

She didn't say anything.

He straightened, pacing up and down the pavement. "I mean—it's their problem and they need to work it out their own way. That's the only way anything's going to get solved."

She was silent.

He groaned inwardly, shutting his eyes.

"All right, fine! I'll do it!"

He could almost hear her smiling into the phone. "But don't make it too obvious what you're really doing."

"Fine, fine…" he grumbled.

"Thank you, Taichi. I love you."

"Love you, too. Say hello to the three monsters for me."

"Deep down, I know you like them."

"The two kiddies, sure. It's that other character I'm still not too sure of."

"Oh, Taichi!"

He laughed and hung up the phone before she could get more annoyed with him. Truth was, he didn't mind Willis all that much. He didn't like that he was so far away from home some times, but that couldn't be helped. He knew the guy was good to his sister, and he supposed that was all that really mattered. (Though for as long as he lived he swore to never forgive the blond for being American.)

When he got home, Mimi was lying on her stomach in front of the television, painting her nails a bright pink. He ignored her, stepping by into his room to change out of his suit. Once he'd put on more comfortable clothes, he went into the kitchen to eat something, making sure to make a lot of noise to irritate her. She, for her part, kept her focus on Fred Astaire's _Top Hat_, doing an immaculate job of pretending he didn't exist.

Taichi stared at her.

She was wrapped up in a bathrobe, positioned in such a way that her legs were braced against the couch, toes playing with the cushion. She had spread bottles of nail polish, remover, cotton balls, and magazines all over the floor. The movie she was watching was just about done, and she was singing along with the actors and actresses, bobbing her head.

"You'd better not spill any on the carpet," he said to break the silence.

"Oops…" she winced, tugging a magazine to cover up a spot that he couldn't see from where he was standing.

He narrowed his eyes. "Mimi!"

"Shut up! Fred's singing!"

Before he could retaliate, his phone rang from his bedroom. He glowered, stomping away, then lost all present thoughts when he saw the name flashing on the caller I.D. He sat on the edge of his bed, holding his phone, taking a deep breath before answering.

"Thought your name looked familiar," he answered smoothly.

"Hikari said you wanted to talk to me," Ishida Yamato replied just as coolly.

Taichi rolled his eyes.

"She did, did she."

"What do you want, Taichi?"

"Why the sour mood?"

"Remember a little thing called time difference?"

"Don't worry, you didn't wake me."

He heard Yamato laugh. "I swear to God, I'll kill you one day."

Taichi smiled.

"So what's this I hear about you and the Mrs. squabbling?"

Yamato didn't answer.

His friend sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"You should talk to her."

"Not when she insists on being insufferable."

"She's a woman. They're all insufferable."

"Taichi."

"I'm not joking. You wouldn't believe what I've had to put up with the last few months…." He glanced through the door towards the living room, catching snippets of her singing.

"Yeah, well, you've put with Sora longer than I have, haven't you? You two grew up together. You know exactly what I have to deal with..."

"First off," Taichi said quietly after a silent moment, "she's not someone you 'have to deal with.' You love her, Yamato."

_Who doesn't_?

Yamato didn't say anything.

"You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to," Taichi went on, "but I think you should give it another chance. You shouldn't let go of something like that this way. You never know how many second chances you're going to get."

"I know..."

"Hey, listen, I'll talk to you later," Taichi said, making up an excuse out of the blue, "I think I burned something in…the oven…thing."

Yamato smiled. "Right."

"I'll talk to you later."

"No, you won't," the blond replied easily.

Taichi paused. "What does that mean?"

"It means you don't call or do anything anymore, Taichi. You're always busy."

"It's not my fault."

"Didn't say it was. Just pointing it out."

Taichi said nothing.

"Good night—it's night in Japan, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Taichi said. "Good night."

He hung up, tossing the phone on his bed. He stared at it for a long time, thinking. When he got up to return to the kitchen, he was stopped when he saw Mimi standing in the doorway. He slouched, frowning.

"What do you want?"

Mimi's eyes softened. "You talked to him?" she asked, as though touched by the gesture.

"It was just a conversation," Taichi brushed off.

"But you actually made the effort to try and help them heal their marriage—oh, Taichi!"

"Do you have to make it sound so disgustingly cheesy?"

She squealed, catching him by surprise completely by throwing her arms around him. He froze, unable to react, not even daring to breathe, her hair tickling his face.

"I'm really sorry about being so awful to you this past week," she apologized gushingly.

He tried to pry her off him. "Yes, well, it was probably my fault, somehow."

"No, it was mine. I was being such an idiot that night, thinking that you—well, never mind," and she pulled away.

He caught her wrist. "Thinking that I what?"

"Nothing," she smiled. "It's nothing, really."

"Mimi," he interrupted firmly.

She sighed.

"You just—you get so caught up in things, Taichi. But that's your job, you know? Meeting people and making connections. It's a big deal. I know when I was still modeling, I didn't have a lot of time for my friends, but your reason is much more understandable, what with Japan's diplomatic future hanging in the balance, right?"

She smiled at him when he didn't answer.

"Right?"

He shook his head. "I didn't mean to ignore you."

"Taichi, I know," she said. "It's all right. It's your job."

"No, it isn't," he replied.

She stared at him. Then she looked away, carefully slipping her hand out of his grasp. "Are you hungry? I can warm you a plate. Li made these absolutely delicious."

"How about we try again?" he suggested.

She glanced at him. "What are you talking about?"

"The whole thing—dinner, the ball, the entire event. Let me try again. Let me show you how it's supposed to go," he promised.

She raised an eyebrow, curious but doubtful.

"Really?"

"Really."

A sly grin spread across her face.

"Something tells me I'm going to regret this..."

* * *

This wasn't as grand. It was for a children's benefit and Taichi was going on behalf of the entire state of Japan. All right, that wasn't exactly true, but that was what Mimi was telling herself so that she could feel more excited about this thing. She was sad that Koushiro and Miyako wouldn't be attending, but Taichi promised they'd have a lot of fun anyway. 

Now if only they could get the car to start.

Taking the economical approach, Taichi had decided to give the chauffer the night off and drive them to the event location. It seemed like a bright idea at the time (especially since he wouldn't have to pay for parking), but when they heard a loud pop halfway there, it quickly became apparent that this wasn't going to be a great start to the night's fun.  
Mimi sat in the car, tapping her high-heeled foot impatiently on the floor of the car while Taichi stepped out to inspect the reason for the disruptive sound. He returned with unfortunate news, getting back inside to shut the door since it was getting dark and cold already.

"Flat tire," he said simply.

"Well," she prodded.

"Well, what?"

"Go fix it."

He glared, grumbling as he got out once again and slammed the door. He opened the trunk, trying to find a spare, located it, pulled it out, and had to chase after it when it almost rolled away. He retrieved it, still muttering to himself, hoping someone would pass by and stop and help. But no one else seemed to be out tonight, for it wasn't promising to be a good night at all. The clouds were gathering and he wasn't reassured by their dark color.

He tried to remember how to change a tire, but he took so long doing it that she finally came out and demanded to know what he was doing. He got so irritated he dropped the wrench he was holding, accidentally kicking the stand under the tire, causing the car to tilt dangerously, making them both cry out in horror and grab for the vehicle, and then helplessly watching as the neat, clean car slid inevitably down the embankment, lodging securely into a trap along the hill from which it could only be freed with the help of a tow truck.

It was a long time before either one of them spoke again.

"Well," she prodded.

"Well, what?"

"Now what do we do?" she mused.

He sighed. "Come on."

She stared at him as he began to walk away. "Where are you going?" she demanded in growing horror.

"We are getting to that charity event one way or another."

"Haven't you seen what I'm wearing?" she cried.

He glanced back at her, glimpsing the shapely white beaded gown, the way her curls piled over her head and over her bare shoulders. He could look at her now and not doubt for a second that she was once the top model in the fashion industry, and he couldn't understand for the life of him why any sane man in the world would let her go.

He shook his head.

"It's not that far."

"You better pray someone picks us up."

"Well, with you in that dress, a whole line of truck drivers will gladly-,"

"Shut up."

He laughed, holding out his hand. She took it grumpily.

"You look beautiful tonight," he said.

"Yeah, well, you're never enough, Taichi. I want the whole world to see how beautiful I look tonight."

"As long as they can see past that enormous head of yours."

"Are we there yet?"

"Mimi, it's been two seconds."

"Will you carry me?"

"Not even if you were dead."

She tugged on his arm, smiling. "So what did you and Yamato talk about?"

"Nothing I'm going to tell you."

"You know, it's really sweet of you to be there for him, especially now. What he needs most is a good friend, and you were that person."

Taichi didn't say anything, looking away.

She studied him closely.

"What's wrong?"

He shook his head.

She forced him to stop. "Taichi?"

He sighed. "I just don't think you should make me out to be the kind of great friend you want me to be, 'cause I'm not."

She frowned, confused.

"What are you saying?" He pulled himself away from her, walking forward and leaving her behind.

"Forget it. It's stupid."

"It's obviously not if you can't stop thinking about it," she pointed out knowingly.

He stopped.

"I'm still in love with her," he admitted very quietly, like a secret he whispered.

She held her breath, not moving.

"It's stupid and it doesn't make sense, I know. But all these things I do to myself now, the situations I get myself into, it's all because…of her. And it really makes me sick, because I look at myself and how I'm acting, all these years later, and I can't believe I could sink this low over something as dumb as an old crush that I can't let go. And that's the worst part. I can't let it go. Even if…even if she's happy with him, he isn't me. And I…I still want to dream."

He trailed off, listening to himself, wanting to be sick but still living off the tiniest bit of hope.

He shook his head, casting a hand over his face.

"I am such an idiot."

She was silent for such a long time that after several minutes, he glanced at her with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she must think of him now. He stared in surprise when he discovered that she actually had her mouth pressed in a thin, angry line, her face pale. She glared and he gaped back, astonished. What did _he_ do?

"How can you stand to be this way?" she demanded. "How can you wallow around—_you_, with everything you have—in your stupid self-pity and so readily deceive yourself with the possibility that _no_ one else in the world could possibly understand you when _you_ don't even know how to deal with anything half the time? And how can you expect people to feel _sorry_ for you when you keep pushing them away?"

He couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't figure out where she had come up with all of that in just the few minutes she'd had to think over his situation, and she grew even more irritated. "You're _impossible_, Taichi! You're immature, self-obsessed, and _stupid_! Just stupid! You just—_oh, forget it_!" She gathered up the skirts of her dress, stomping away and raving loudly. Taichi stopped, standing still.

_Wow_.

Not that he hadn't been yelled at before. Plenty of women had screamed plenty of choice words at him plenty of times, regardless of an audience and regardless of whether he deserved it (though he probably did). That was nothing new. But Mimi? Even when they were in school, she'd never gotten _that_ angry before.

Although, it was incredibly arousing.

He slapped a hand to his head.

_Stupid male hormones_.

But she didn't understand. He'd been in love with Sora. In love. You don't just let go of those kind of feelings, no matter what happened to the relationship. Love's rare enough. Still…she never had returned the feelings. They'd tried dating, but that hadn't worked for her. Sora, no matter how much he desperately wished otherwise, wasn't the girl for him. Or at least, he wasn't the guy for her.

He glanced at her again. _Still_...

With a sigh, he started to catch up to her, shoving his hands into his pockets before following her. It didn't take that long to reach her, considering she was wearing high heels and an evening gown, and the soggy dirt was not ideal for such attire. He saw her limping all the way down the empty street, heading to the bus station at the corner. He picked up his pace and reached her side just as she stepped onto the sidewalk.

She kept her nose in the air and refused to look at him, marching to the bench and sitting down to wait for the bus.

He sat next to her, his fingers curled nervously in his pockets.

_Nervously_?

He eyed the fuming young woman next to him and realized the nervousness came from a sense of wary caution. An angry Mimi was a dangerous Mimi.

"At least let me take you home," he offered after a short hesitation.

She snorted in contempt. "There's no way in hell I'm going anywhere with you, Taichi, not with the way you insist on behaving. I'm sick of it. So you can just go ahead and drive yourself home. I'm staying right here."

His jaw clenched.

"You know, I don't understand how you can go on and on about how horrible I am and perfectly ignore your own problems."

She looked at him sharply. "What are you suggesting?" she asked lowly.

"I think you heard me."

"I am nothing like you."

"You're just as self-centered as anybody. Don't take me as a charity-case to help ease your own conscience."

She pursed her lips. "All right, I admit I used to be like that. But I've had a change of perspective."

He smirked, "Right after you fell off the social ladder."

Her shoulders sank with fatigue and she sighed. "But you're different, Taichi," she said softly, and the anger disappeared mysteriously. "You used to be, at least. No matter how hard things got, you kept pushing. That inspired all of us, in more ways than you or even we realize. And look where you are now…. Taichi, I just don't want to see you lose all this."

"What's the point anymore, Mimi?" He shook his head. "Lately, I can't find one..."

"There's got to be something."

He leaned forward and rested his arms on his knees, holding his chin in his hands and staring thoughtfully at the sidewalk. A low rumbling sounded from overhead as the cloudy skies darkened in unnatural light.

"There used to be."

Mimi leaned back on her arms, her palms flat on the stone bench. "Taichi..."

"Don't say it."

"Now, I know you loved her. Okay? I know how you feel. But she's married now—or at least she's involved with someone, and I know you care about the both of them very much. And right now they need you. But it's been years. You said it yourself. Don't you think you should let it go now?" She paused. "There's nothing left to hold onto."

He shrugged indifferently. "I'm just…I'm afraid of forgetting her."

"You're not going to," she promised quietly. "But you can't keep living those memories, keep torturing yourself with those stupid 'what ifs'."

He nodded, knowing she was right, still stuck in his dream world. He wondered if he was ever going to grow up. Then he remembered something. He pulled out his wallet, waving it at her with a small smile on his face.

"She gave me this, almost ten years ago. Birthday present."

Mimi said nothing, just watching him.

"Used to carry her picture around, you know, for a couple of months after we both realized it wasn't going to work out. When they got engaged, I decided enough was enough. I had to let her go, and I was going to start by getting new wallet. Never got around to it, though, did I?"

He stared it the old leather thing, shaking his head. "Why do I make it so hard for myself…?" he whispered.

She leaned forward.

"Because you're scared," she said. "You're so used to seeing yourself as that other man, that you're scared of what you'll see when you finally move on. But you can't live like that, Taichi. That isn't fair to you. You've got a great life now, and a good future."

She sighed again. "At least that's what I learned the hard way. First I get my appointments cancelled, am replaced by some Spanish brat, get in a fight with my agent, am fired, have a row with my parents, and then Michael left me. In a matter of a few months my entire career is down the drain, my parents won't speak to me, and I'm out on the street with no where to go. You would think I could have gotten back somehow."

She picked at the stitching of her gown absentmindedly, thinking to herself before continuing.

"But instead I came here, worked hard, and realized there was so much more to life that I missed carrying on the way I had been. And as crazy as it sounds…I like it. I'm getting over the mess I made for myself, started talking to my parents again. Things are getting better, but I feel different now. I like my life now; I like this new future. It may not have been the one I originally had in mind for myself, but I still like it." He smiled lightly.

"Maybe you're right."

"I'm always right," she joked.

He stood and walked to the side of the station doors, leaning against the entrance. "But it's hard…" he murmured.

She got up and went to him, standing behind him. She slipped a hand into his pocket and entwined her fingers around his, giving his hand a small, reassuring squeeze. "You can do it, Taichi. I know you can," she whispered. Then she smirked. "If I can pull it off, then you definitely have a shot at surviving this, too."

Taichi smiled and turned his face to look into hers. "I admit this pathetic nostalgia was getting kind of boring."

"Yes, and a hugely competitive man such as you needs as much adrenaline as life can give."

"Damn straight." He leaned over and kissed her forehead affectionately. "Thanks, Mimi."

"Don't thank me yet. I'm not through reforming you."

He winced. "Why don't I like the sound of that?"

Before she could answer, headlights blinded them both as the bus turned around the corner and came to a stop in front of the station. The doors opened expectantly. Mimi could see dim silhouettes of faces peering through the glass. Taichi looked at her, waiting.

"What?" she asked innocently.

"I thought you wouldn't ever go anywhere with me again?"

"Could you in good conscience send me into the city transport system at night looking like this?" She gestured to the fitting gown that hugged her curves tightly, and raised her eyebrows in mock betrayal.

He turned so that he faced her directly and wrapped his free arm around her waist to pull her close. "I wouldn't send you anywhere I couldn't follow," he said with a wicked smirk.

She glared in disgust. "That unrestrained flirting is the first thing I'm going to work on."

"Sorry. It's a habit."

"Are you two getting on or not?" the driver interrupted. They both looked at him in surprise, having forgotten all about the bus that waited on them.

"Oh, yes!" Mimi said, heading towards it.

"She means 'no,'" Taichi interrupted, pulling her back.

"But—," she tried to say but Taichi shook his head at her.

The driver shrugged and closed the door, and they were left in a cloud of choking exhaust. Lightening glared in the distance and a peal of thunder sounded ominously overhead. Taichi let go of her, but kept a hold of her hand in his pocket. He noticed, pleased, the way their fingers fit perfectly, and he tightened his grip as he gently tugged her out of the bus station.

"What was that for?" she cried. "He could have taken us to the charity event!"

"We're not going to the event."

"But you promised!" she whined.

He rolled his eyes.

"Koushiro doesn't live too far from here."

"Oh, good! Then you can call him and get him to pick us up."

"Yeah, about that..."

"Taichi..."

"I left my cell in the car."

"How the hell did you get to be a diplomat?"

"Don't ask rhetorical questions. Now, come on, before the storm finds us."

Sighing, she had no choice but to follow his ridiculous lead. "Wait," she said, pulling back. She bent and took off both shoes, then bunched the skirt of her expensive gown in one hand. They walked together, quickening their steps as thunder boomed threateningly. A few water droplets began to fall, and then more, and they picked up their pace, desperate to get out of the rain as soon as possible. Then she let out an unexpected cry and suddenly slipped on a soggy, wet patch of grass, falling flat into the mud. Her shoes went flying, and she started crying dramatically. "_My dress_!" she bemoaned her state, pulling herself up on her elbows. "Look at my dress!"

"You know, this wouldn't have happened if you had just stayed in the car and let me change the tire in peace," he snapped, grabbing her arm and pulling her up. She struggled to her feet, trying to shake the mud off her hem.

"Or if you had just learned to get over yourself and stop bemoaning failed love attempts," she shot back.

"Or if—," he started, then stopped and laughed.

She glared at him venomously. "What's so funny?"

"You—look—so—stupid—!" he choked out.

She glanced down at herself appraisingly, and discovered that the front of her gown was soaked in wet mud and stuck to her uncomfortably. She had dirt smeared all over her bare arms and shoulders, and her feet were caked in mud. Her hair was coming undone, and it hung limply, defeated by the rainwater's power. He was laughing at her hard now, bending over slightly.

Smirking, she reached down, wadded together a ball of mud, and smashed into his wet face.

He sputtered in protest, his laughs turned to chokes, and he clawed at his dirty face, rubbing the mud away. Before he freed himself, she turned and ran for safety, knowing he'd be after her within seconds. She whooped in relief when she saw a pay phone at the entrance to a public park and made a beeline towards it. Within moments, he was by her side, still wiping mud from his face and neck. She held out a hand. "Tell me you have change."

He pulled out his pockets to show her nothing was there. She grumbled, staring at the pay phone longingly, and then got another idea. She whirled around.

"Quick! Rob the fountain!"

"Aren't we a couple of lawbreakers?" he said with a laugh.

"Just shut up and hurry, I want to get out of here."

Mimi climbed over the steps and entered the pool that was built into the pavement in the center of the park. It was freezing, and she felt her body grow cold. She shivered, hugging her arms to her herself. Taichi clambered in after her, splashing around recklessly, despite her protests.

Then he grinned wickedly. "Say, you want to wash your gown out while we're here?" She tried to glare, but her teeth chattered, and he only laughed at her again. "Come on, it's not as though they never asked you to do anything like this in the modeling business."

"Yes, b-but at least then I was g-getting paid to p-prance around half-nude."

"Those must have been the days, eh?" He waded over to her and took her hands. She was surprised by how warm they were. He frowned at her, though. "Wow, you're cold."

She gave him a Thank-you-Captain-Obvious look, complete with an eye-roll, and pointed out, "T-Taichi, it's p-pouring and we're s-standing in an ice-c-cold fountain."

"There's only one way to get accustomed to the temperature of water," he said slyly.

Her eyes grew wide. "D-Don't even think-," she started warningly, and then broke out into shrieks as he picked her up and plunged her face down in the shallow water. She shoved herself up and gasped, then gave a wild kick of her leg and sent him sprawling on his back. "You b-bastard!" she shouted, choking back laughter. "This is w-way too shallow!"

"Found some coins!" he shouted, sitting up, and counting.

She grabbed some for herself but then stopped. "This is all play money!"

"Really?" he was impressed.

She groaned, flinging the worthless coins back into the fountain. "It's a children's park, remember?"

He needed to inspect her claims further and poked around with his face close to the water's surface. She saw her opportunity and pounced. He was ready, though, anticipating, and jumped up to grab her wrists and shove her back so she leaned against the edge of the pool.

He was grinning. "Don't even," he said.

"I a-almost had you," she defended.

"You're terrible at surprise."

She managed to pull one hand out of his grasp and cupped water in it. "You've got m-mud all o-over yourself," she giggled, wiping it away as best she could.

"No thanks to you." He sat back and pulled her up as well, so that she sat between his legs. He was warm, so leaned closer to him and her teeth stopped chattering, though the occasional shudder passed through her.

She wet her hands again and began to shape his hair into spikes. "You know, you could go for a haircut."

He frowned and leaned his head back, "Really?"

"It would be an interesting change."

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet. I'd rather take things one at a time."

She smiled, "What is it with men and their hair? You would think most wouldn't care that much." She flattened his bangs, and then tried other styles. "But you should think about it."

"I'll keep it mind," he promised, knowing full well that the last thing she'd reform was his hair. He was quite fond of it, and it wasn't going to change. But he let her hands play with his bangs and run her fingers through his hair, liking the way it felt. When she finally gave up on it, he was suddenly disappointed to feel her touch leave him. Her hand lingered near his cheek, however, and she was smiling through the rain. He instinctively reached up and covered her hand with his, holding her fingers against his skin. He leaned forward, seeing the laughter in her eyes darken into uncertainty.

Her lipstick had smeared and her make-up was running, traces of mud gathered on her face and in her soaked hair, and when he really thought about it, she looked the most unappealing now than she had ever had before. And he ought to be cringing, and a part of him was. But the other part just really wanted to kiss her.

"Careful," she whispered when his face inched closer, "Daisuke might be watching."

"Yeah?" he smiled.

"Yeah..."

He was even closer now, and she swallowed hard. "God, please don't let's be stupid now…," she breathed, eyes fluttering shut.

He responded by coming in closer, not fully understanding why, as he dropped his gaze to focus entirely on her lips. The skies protested and they both jumped in shock as thunder blasted above them.

"We really should get out of here," he said, grabbing both her hands and pulling her up. They raced through the rain down the sidewalk, entering the dark empty streets. Her dress was really giving her trouble, but she knew every step took her closer to the warmth of a stove and a hot bath, not to mention Miyako's amazing cooking. She sincerely hoped they were awake.

Taichi stopped at a corner and looked up and down the street, then gave her arm a sudden tug towards the left. "This way, we're almost there," he said, pushing open the gates to an apartment building. They ran inside, dripping wet, and the sleepy doorman started in surprise when he saw them drag themselves onto the rich red carpet of the lobby, trailing puddles.

"What—?" he started, and then immediately recognized Taichi's face. He jumped to his feet. "Mr. Yagami!" he exclaimed, dropping into a courtesy bow. "You'll be wanting to see Mr. Izumi, yes, sir?"

Taichi wiped his bangs from his face and nodded, while Mimi held onto his arm tightly for support, breathing hard. But it felt so good to be out of the storm.

"I'll ring him right away, sir," the doorman promised, and went behind his desk to the intercom.

A moment later, the silent lobby was filled with Miyako's annoyed voice. Her agitation disappeared when she heard who was waiting for admittance to their apartment, and she quickly granted permission. They thanked the man and went up to the elevators, still dripping water everywhere. Taichi barely knocked on the door once before it was flung open and Miyako screeched over their state. She grabbed Mimi's hand, wrenching her out of Taichi's hold and dragging her inside while Koushiro politely invited a very tired Taichi into the apartment.

"What happened?" he asked, handing him a towel.

His boss gratefully accepted the hand cloth and wiped his face. "Lost the car, long story, don't ask," he said, rubbing his hair now. "Yours was the nearest place we could get to."

Koushiro glanced back at Mimi, who was now being escorted by his wife into the bathroom where she could dry up properly. He leaned in towards Taichi, dropping his voice. "You didn't go to the event at all, did you?"

Taichi paused.

"What do _you_ think?"

He added lowly, "Taichi..."

Taichi interrupted, frustrated. "Why are we whispering?"

His friend rolled his eyes. "Miyako hates it when I talk about work at home."

Taichi grinned and started to say something, but they both jumped when Miyako screeched, "_Yagami Taichi_! _What_ were you thinking?"

"I-,"

She waddled into the living room and glared at him, her hair pulled up into rollers. "She could have caught her death out in that cold! Don't you realize how delicate we women are?"

"Miyako-,"

"Don't you 'Miyako' _me_, Izumi Koushiro," she snapped at her husband, who quickly shut his mouth. Then she turned back on Taichi. "Would it really hurt you to have some consideration for other people?"

Mimi screamed from the bathroom in sudden realization, "My _shoes_! I left my shoes out there! Those were one-of-a-kind from _Milan!_"

Miyako threw another cold look at Taichi before hurrying back to her mourning friend's side.

* * *

Some time later, Li called and sounded very panicked when he told Koushiro that his master and temporary mistress were reported as missing from the event, but Koushiro calmly explained what had happened. Relieved, the man promised to send the chauffeur out right away with the spare car and bring them home, but Taichi said to wait until the storm died down before anyone attempted to drive out here. So it was well past midnight when the doorman buzzed in from the lobby to announce the chauffeur's arrival, and Mimi fell asleep in the new car during the drive. Taichi didn't mind carrying her inside the building and to his apartment, and she herself was completely unaware of holding onto his arm so tight that he had to physically pry her fingers off when he put her to sleep in her bed. 

When she awoke, it took her a moment to recollect the events of the night, and she lay in bed for a long time as she remembered. It truly had been fun, even the part when they'd got the car stuck in the embankment and had to walk to the nearest shelter for help, now that she saw it in hindsight. But it everything ended up all right, and though he was terrible at the little things, he was a very good sport when it came to conversation. Well, about as good as a friend could be.

She sighed and rolled off the bed lazily, pulling on a robe. She wandered into the kitchen, where Li was making breakfast.

"Ah, good morning, Miss Mimi. I trust you slept well?"

"Very," she smiled and rubbed her eyes.

"You're just in time for a breakfast." He placed a plate on the counter and gestured to the stool. "Go on, eat up."

Mimi sat on the stool and picked up the chopsticks. Then she paused, glancing around the apartment in confusion. "Li, where's Taichi?"

"He's gone on a few errands, miss."

"He's already awake?" she blinked in surprise.

"Surprising, I know. But I imagine he'll return for lunch, if you would like to wait for him."

Mimi smiled, tapping a chopstick to her chin thoughtfully. "Actually, I have another idea. Li, tell Taichi that if I'm not back when he is, he has to wait for me. Tell him I have a surprise."

"Of course."

"Oh, and I'll need a car."

"I'll notify the chauffeur at once, miss."

"No, Li, tell him to stay at home. I can drive myself."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm very capable," Mimi reassured. Then something on the coffee table caught her attention. "Li, what's that package?"

Li smiled. "It's for you, miss."

She put down her chopsticks. "Me?"

"Master Yagami left it for you."

"Did he?" She got up and went to the living room, picking up the box that was wrapped in pink tissue paper. It was rather light, and she shook it to hear what was inside. Something knocked around, and she became interested. She placed it back on the table and took off the lid, then laughed out loud: her missing shoes, recovered and restored and good as new.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Only Alive**

* * *

AU When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before….

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

Taichi stopped on the corner of the street and pulled out the paper he had rolled and stuffed inside his jacket pocket. He opened it and looked once more at the front cover, staring. 

Disgusted, he clutched the paper in his fist and stomped to the tall stone building that housed one of the city's many newspapers headquarters. He shoved the door open, stalked inside, and ignored everyone's curious glances. The place was busy and full of people even at this hour, but he pushed his way through the chaos of the newsrooms and cubicles and headed straight to an office on the third floor, at the very end of the corridor.

Without knocking, he walked in.

The reporter was lounging far back in his chair with his feet on the desk, having an argument with someone on the phone. A pencil was perched precariously behind his ear, and his blond hair stuck out at various angles as the result of his having run a frustrated hand through it several times already this morning. His suit jacket hung on the window hook behind him, and he had pulled his tie loose around his neck and half-unbuttoned his shirt. He tapped the fingers of his right hand on the arm of the chair impatiently.

His mood foul, Taichi went to the desk and pressed the button on the phone so the line cut off.

The victim of the diplomat's temper started in surprise, dropping his feet on the floor, and finally looked up to see the angry young man standing threateningly above him.

The blond smirked and returned the receiver to its cradle. "Well, Yagami, it's certainly been a while. What's brought you all the way into town to my humble office?"

Taichi gritted his teeth to bite back a sarcastic reply. Instead he threw the paper he'd been clutching on top of the desk.

Takaishi Takeru, a reporter for one of Tokyo's most widely circulated but less than journalistically ethical newspapers, picked up the morning's completed copy for the first time. "'Tokyo's Political Pastimes.'" He raised an amused eyebrow. Then he sat up, shocked when he finally recognized the cover's picture.

He gaped, eyes wide. "Is that…Mimi?"

"Who put that there?" Taichi demanded in a low, dangerous voice.

"I don't take the pictures, Taichi…. What are you two doing?"

"It's none of your damn business! It's not anyone's business! What I want to know is who took the picture and how!"

"All right, all right, stop yelling." Takeru squinted. "Are you kissing?"

"No!" Taichi snapped angrily. "It's only made to look that way!"

"Regardless, it looks awfully suggestive—,"

"We were—in the fountain and—and it was muddy so—it's nothing!"

"That's not what it seems like to me," Takeru laughed.

Taichi clenched his fists. "Tell me who took it, Takaishi. Now."

"I didn't know Mimi was in town," the blonde went on lightly. "D'you know where she's staying?"

"Takeru—,"

"Look, Taichi, I do the sports. I don't care about the entertainment sections. As for the photography," he shrugged, "after Hikari moved to Kyoto, I stopped paying attention to that, too."

Taichi groaned and sank into an extra chair. "What am I going to do, Takeru? If Mimi sees that—,"

"You mean she hasn't yet?"

"Of course not. As soon as Li showed it to me, I got rid of all the newspapers in the apartment."

"The apartment?" Takeru interrupted, astonished. His blue eyes went wide. "Your apartment? Is Mimi staying with you?"

Taichi winced. "Only temporarily—,"

"You are so dead." Takeru gestured to the paper. "This is a gold mine for them, Taichi."

"Take it off the printers."

"It's a little late for that."

Taichi threw up his hands, ready to scream. "Well, do something!"

The journalist only laughed, shaking his blond head and reaching for the phone.

"What's the matter with you?" Taichi demanded, annoyed. "Quit grinning like an idiot. Don't you realize what this means for Japan's diplomatic future?"

Takeru made a face. "I was never a fan of politics, and you know it. That's why we couldn't be closer friends."

The elder of the two glared. "No wonder Yamato fled the continent to get away from his own brother."

"He loves me more than you, admit it."

Taichi waited while Takeru left a message with a friend in the distribution office, then hung up the phone. The blond ran a hand through his hair, looking down at the magazine.

"The most I can suggest is run and hide, because the paparazzi will be after you like a hawk the second this gets in their hands."

"That's why they can't find it."

"It's already late morning. Can you imagine where this has reached by now?"

Taichi groaned. "I don't want to think about it…."

"Well, you're going to have to. The embassy's going to have to make a statement or something. You need to prepare something in case someone contacts you for a response, and you know they will. With this kind of story on the press, you'll be center of attention in no time."

"Thanks for the encouragement."

"I'm a reported, Taichi. I tell it how it is."

Taichi stood and paced through the small room, nervous. "I just don't know what this will—," but he stopped there, noting that his friend had grown unusually quiet. He looked back and saw that Takeru had his face buried in the cheap newspaper, engrossed by the article.

"What are you doing, Takaishi?"

"Have you actually read the story, Taichi?" the blond asked distractedly.

"Like I'm going to give that trash my time," he snorted. "I already know what it's saying. How I'm just another sleazy, corrupt official sleeping around my personal sex toy and blah, blah, blah…. I mean, do these people have nothing better to do?"

"They're the tabloids, Taichi," Takeru reminded. "It's their job to have nothing better to do."

When Taichi didn't reply, looking sour as he continued to pace worriedly, the writer couldn't resist adding, "Why are you so upset anyway? People like to gossip. It's not like this doesn't happen to other people in other situations."

"Yeah, well, this is about _my_ friends and _my _life. Nobody's going to talk about me if I can help it," Taichi growled.

Takeru only smiled.

"Never seen you this angry over rumors about you and other women," he muttered. "And you have to admit, Taichi, while none of them were accused of being your live-in fuck buddy, they got their fair share of tabloid articles while they were seen with you…. Except now, it's personal, isn't it?" he teased, laughing. "What makes her so different, Taichi? You can tell me."

The elder glared. "Takeru, shut the fuck up."

The man responded by whistling lowly, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

Taichi narrowed his eyes. "What? What'd they say? Takeru, what is it?"

The reporter opened the newspaper, laying it down on the desk so Taichi could see. They were looking at a full-page spread of one of Mimi's old photo shoots. Her hair was curled and fell in ringlets around her sweet face; her full lips were colored a deep red. Her head was titled back as she lay on an unmade bed sprinkled with flower petals, staring up at the camera innocently, though in a far from innocent dress. It was made of a pale, peach-colored see-through silk, giving the distinct impression of barely being able to cover her otherwise nude body, falling over her shoulders and leaving her tanned, smooth arms and legs bare. She was positioned in such a way to cover certain parts, though what was in fact revealed left very little to the imagination.

Taichi managed after a while, squeakily, "Where did they get this…?"

"She's a model, isn't she?" Takeru said, tugging on his collar as he stared as well, unable to draw his eyes away. "Her pictures are all over the fashion magazines. And I'm willing to bet that this newspaper's been selling out all over the country."

Taichi hardly even heard him, but it took him a minute more to notice that Takeru was still gaping at her suggestive picture, and that irritated him greatly. He shoved him back and threw the magazine in the trash. "Shred it."

"Are you crazy?"

"Takeru!" he snarled furiously.

His friend threw up his hands in surrender. "Then that just proves it!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Taichi, tell me, how does it make you feel knowing every man in Japan has access to that picture?"

The diplomat refused to speak.

Takeru smirked. "I thought so."

* * *

Several hours later, Mimi sat meekly on a couch in Taichi's office, feet apart and knees together, chin supported by nervous palms. She bounced a foot repeatedly, biting her lip. Taichi, for his part, held nothing back. He had stopped banging his head on his desk and now just sort of lay there, sprawled tragically, staring down at his shoes. 

Mimi chewed on a fingernail.

"Now what?" she whispered for the seventeenth time in the last half-hour.

Koushiro, who was slowly dying in an armchair by the window, sighed, staring dejectedly at the ceiling.

"Now, nothing," the redhead said sadly. "There's nothing we can do."

"An official statement?"

Taichi spoke, mumbling, "We can't dignify this with a response."

Mimi pursed her lips. "I don't understand what the big deal is. We had all sorts of scandals in the modeling business. I can't count how many times I've made the tabloids—,"

"That's the point, Mimi," Taichi interrupted, frustrated. "It's because you're a model that everything's going straight to hell. Don't you understand what's happening to my reputation?"

She didn't reply, mouth pressed in a thin angry line.

Koushiro sat up.

"We can work around this," he said confidently. Taichi lifted his head to stare in complete disbelief. "We can," Koushiro repeated with earnest. "An official statement might not be a bad idea. At the very least, we skirt the issue, avoid giving it any more attention than necessary. Pretty soon, everything will blow over. You know the media. They're always looking out for the next big—well, you know."

Taichi continued to stare.

Mimi straightened in a huff, hands on her knees.

Koushiro went on, "Ask Takeru to run a story with your response—,"

Mimi intervened, "If you're going to be such a baby about it, why don't you just let me deal with it? I can make a statement," she added as an afterthought.

Taichi shook his head.

Koushiro frowned. "I don't know. It's best not to get you any more involved."

"I'm already involved," she pointed out.

"But—,"

"Just stay out of it, Mimi," Taichi commanded gruffly.

She glared. "If you don't want my help, then—,"

"I think you've helped quite enough," he grimaced.

"Are you saying this is my fault?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

"I can't believe you!"

"None of this would have happened if you had just—just—," he sputtered, furious, and she stood up.

"If I what, Taichi? Never asked you for help? I'll have you know that I never did. It was all your idea, remember? My living at your place was your bright idea, your charity case of the year. Don't blame it all on me now that it's biting you in the ass—,"

His jaw dropped open. "Of all the ungrateful—if you hate it so much, just leave! No one's forcing you to stay!"

"Is that it, then? You want me to leave? You want me to move out, just get out, is that it? Is that what you want, Taichi?"

He looked away. "You're not helping by staying. You're just making things worse."

She was silent.

Koushiro braced himself, glancing warily between the two.

Finally, Mimi shook her head.

"Fine," she said quietly. "I'll be gone by tomorrow. Happy?" And without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heels and stalked out the door.

Daisuke was there, attempting to eavesdrop, but he jumped back as soon as Mimi marched out. She ignored his guilty expression, walking past him. The young man glanced at his boss's office, than at his beautiful friend. Hesitating just momentarily, he went after the latter.

He caught her by the wrist, "Mimi, wait—,"

"What about you, Daisuke? What do you think about this whole mess?" she demanded.

He stopped, shame-faced.

"I…."

"Well?"

He looked down at his toes. "Maybe it would be best if…."

"If I stepped out of the picture, right?" she finished for him. "And how should I do that, Daisuke?"

"Mimi, don't be like this."

She smiled. "God, you're all the same, aren't you?"

He said nothing, standing absolutely still as she walked away.

It wasn't until she'd reached the elevator that she allowed herself to show any emotion over what had transpired in the last three hours. Calmly, she pressed the button that closed the doors but didn't select a floor. Instead, she stood very still, holding her breath, and then let out shriek worthy of the scariest of banshees, kicking the walls, the door—everything within reach (which wasn't much, seeing as how it was an extremely confining space), and then smacking the doors and keypad wit her purse. She screamed, eyes squeezed shut, continuing to throw her violent tantrum.

She must have hit the wrong switch, or at least too many buttons at the same time, because suddenly the elevator jerked to a halt and she was thrown back, collapsing against the rear wall. Twisting on her heels, she slid down, crumpled in a heap on the floor, gasping heavily. She opened her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

The intercom blared, "Excuse me? Is anyone here? Hello? Hello? If anyone is there, please pick up the emergency phone. Hello?"

Mimi sat up slowly, crawling over to the front doors and opening the glass case holding the red emergency phone.

"I'm here," she answered weakly, fanning herself with a hand.

The technician's voice crackled on the other end of the line. "Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

She ran shaking fingers through her long hair. "I don't know. It just—stopped."

"It just looks like the compartment's jammed between floors. Don't worry, with this new system, we'll get you out in a jiffy, all right?"

"Take your time," she muttered. "I'm in no hurry."

"Stay on the line, just in case, ma'am."

She winced. Since when did she become a "ma'am" instead of a "miss"? Shaking her head, she agreed and let the phone dangle lazily off her shoulder, burying her head in her hands.

The messes she got herself into….

When would it ever end?

It had all begun that morning, when she went out to get Taichi's surprise, sort of as a thank-you gift for retrieving her prized shoes.

She'd barely stepped out of the fancy apartment building before she'd been literally mobbed by reporters, cameras flashing in her face and people screaming questions and other such nonsense. Before she could gather her senses, dazed by the lights and sounds, she felt hands wrap around her waist and haul her back inside the lobby. The doorman barred the paparazzi's attempts to follow her, and other workers in the building dragged her to safety, away from prying eyes.

Safe inside, she was informed by the clerk, who was also the one who'd physically whisked her away, that the reporters had been hanging around the entrance for a few hours now, desperate to get a glimpse of the bewitching, foreign ex-model who had managed to seduce Japan's premier government agent. It was the political scandal of the century, and the fact that the tabloids had discovered the two were living together made it that much juicier.

It would be nearly impossible for her to leave the apartment without being attacked, and the clerk ominously reported that Taichi himself had been informed of the catastrophic rumors (now that they'd been published in several trashy newspapers) and was currently holed up in the embassy for safety precautions.

Mimi had returned glumly to the flat, explaining to Li what had happened. The two debated for an hour over what action to take.

Just when Mimi was considering strapping on a bed sheet and sailing out the window, the phone rang. It was Koushiro, requesting that Mimi most urgently find a way to transport herself to the embassy. Taichi needed to talk to her _now_.

Feeling a headache coming on from these unforeseen events, Mimi arranged for the trustworthy chauffer to wait for her at the back of the apartment building, to where she would dart most stealthily. Because of rush hour traffic, she didn't arrive at the embassy until most of the other employees had left for the day.

This, needless to say, only made the reporters wild when a rumor inexplicably leaked about the ex-model's escape and her subsequent tryst with the diplomat in the government agency itself—can you _imagine_?

When she got to Taichi's office, Koushiro showed her copies of the printed tabloids, but refused to let her see what the underground press was writing about the two of them online.

She'd been mulling over them while Taichi continued to bang his head on the desk, bemoaning the horrors this would do to his political career.

Mimi thought about what they'd said to each other afterwards, and she winced, unhappy. Brining her legs up to her chest, she shut her eyes again, chewing on her lip.

What was she going to do now?

Trying to get back to the apartment would be a nightmare. Though Koushiro had made calls, there was no telling what would be guaranteed in terms of protection. And that was another issue altogether. Now they had to worry about security and she could just forget trying to conduct anything private for the next couple months.

This treatment was what she'd been used to while she was a model.

But none of those scandals had really affected her friends.

As much as she hated to admit it, she felt guilty about what this would do to Taichi's reputation. It was true—this was awful for any politician to deal with, much less one of his stature. As a diplomat, he was called to represent the integrity of his noble country. But now he would have to face accusations left and right, attacks on his personal life, and that would no doubt affect his public life.

Mimi groaned, burying her face in tired hands.

With a sigh, she leaned back against the wall, feeling hopeless.

She was never going to have a normal life, was she? Maybe that was too much to ask after all the things she'd done, everything she'd gone through. Maybe she'd done something inexpressibly dumb in a previous life and now she was paying for it.

_Oh, God, why me? Why now? Yesterday had been so—_

_Don't think about that now. Don't think like that now_.

A voice was calling her from the other end of the phone.

Startled, Mimi sat up straight, hitting the back of her head on the button panel.

"Ow…" she moaned, rubbing her head.

"What happened? Are you all right? Mimi! Mimi, answer me? Are you okay?"

It took her a minute to connect the voice.

She picked up the phone again incredulously, holding it up to her ear. "Taichi?" she tried to confirm, surprised.

"What the hell did you do?" he cried. "Not even five minutes later and you've already gotten yourself in another mess! Do you ever even think?"

In spite of herself, she smiled.

"You were worried, weren't you?" she teased. "I scared you, didn't I?"

"Only because you insist on being so stupid all the time! Do you have any idea the kind of pressure you put on me? Or do you enjoy wrecking my nerves?"

She smirked. "Yell and complain all you want, Yagami. I know how you really feel."

"Oh, yeah?" he taunted. "And what's that?"

Her smile faded.

She took a deep breath, forcing a change in subject. "Have they figured out what's wrong with the lift?"

"They're working on it," he replied quietly.

Silence followed, and she shifted awkwardly, playing with the hem of her skirt.

She hesitated, "Maybe…maybe it's best I find my own place."

"Maybe," he said softly.

"I actually talked to my old landlord the other day. He said the building's just about done. I can move back by the end of the week. Maybe sooner, if progress keeps up. Good news, isn't it? Came just in time."

Taichi didn't say anything.

She sighed. "I'm sorry about all this, Taichi. I didn't realize—I didn't know it would end up like this. I never meant to damage your career, you know I wouldn't do that—,"

"I know," he interrupted. "These things happen."

"And it's all temporary, really," she tried to reassure him. "They'll find some other corrupt politician to obsess over, or maybe another messed up actor or celebrity. And all of this will be ancient history. It happens all the time in the modeling business, you know. The best way to deal with their bullying is to ignore it. Hold your head up high, be the bigger man. And they'll get bored eventually."

She could hear him smiling. "So do I want to know the things they printed about you?"

She winced. "Probably not…."

"That's not fair, Mimi. None of this is. It's not their business and—,"

"Doesn't matter," she interrupted simply. "It was about time I moved back anyway. This was just the push to get me going."

He was quiet for a minute. And then, "About your job here…."

"Yeah," she nodded. "I know."

"I'll write you some references."

"Thanks."

"Don't worry. We'll find you a good one. Not far from your—your apartment."

"Sounds like a plan."

She tugged on a loose strand of curly hair.

Then she remembered, "Thank you for the shoes."

"What?"

"The shoes. Li showed it to me this morning."

"Oh, that. I'll never understand women and their shoes."

"We're not meant to be understood."

"Obviously."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I'm never going to understand you. Never, no matter how hard I try. Something always happens and suddenly everything I though about you before just changes. And you have no idea how frustrating and annoying it is and how much you infuriate me and bewilder me—and I just—I don't understand how you do it, or why it always works." He trailed off, thinking, voice low. "But it does. Every time, Mimi. Every time…."

She took a deep breath, hand over her forehead.

"Idiot," she whispered. "You don't know what you're saying. That's why you always land yourself in these kinds of messes, you know that?"

He whispered back, "You're the one stuck in a broken elevator."

"No thanks to you."

"So you're blaming it on me?"

"I'm blaming everything on you."

He laughed softly. She smiled, biting a fingernail, sheepish.

"If you need help—,"

"I'll be fine," she promised.

"Okay."

"Okay," she repeated.

She listened to his silence, remembering all the fun they'd had these past few months as friends and roommates, waiting for him to stop her.

But he didn't.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Only Alive**

* * *

AU When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before…. 

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

* * *

_I__'m only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

He worried that the landlord might trick her on something during the contract signing.

He worried that the movers would mess up with her truckload of boxes and furniture pieces.

He worried that the neighborhood was unsanitary or cramped or a haven for suspicious black market activity even though it was reportedly one of the "loveliest apartment building complexes in all of southeast Japan." Right.

He worried that the electrical wires would blow out 'cause she always plugged in too many appliances at the same time and she would always forget about them afterwards.

He worried that the plumbing might go beserk again and she wouldn't know what to do because—let's face it, she didn't have the slightest clue about practical homeowner issues.

He worried that the new job he got her as a secretary to a legal firm might be too much for her, since the world of law was a busy and hectic one and what if she couldn't adjust or what if they didn't have the right kind of coffee she liked or what if her new boss was the evil kind that bullied his employees—and, oh God, had he just delivered her straight into the waiting arms of a registered sex offender?

"Taichi!"

The dazed diplomat looked up from the desk, confused. "Huh?"

Everyone in the board room was staring at him.

Across from him stood Koushiro, who as in the middle of giving a speech to their colleagues. The redhead was, frankly, pissed.

"Do you think," his annoyed friend asked carefully, "you could focus for just a few more minutes please?"

"Wha—? I mean, sure," Taichi recovered quickly, shuffling his papers to give the impression of interest.

Koushiro gave him a hard look and then resumed his talk. Taichi sighed, groaning inwardly, running a hand through his dark brown hair. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath, and when he opened them again, the room was filing out and soon he was alone with the redhead.

His friend sat back down in his chair.

The two were quiet, staring at each other across the length of the long, rectangular meeting table.

Koushiro folded his hands matter-of-factly and leaned forward. "If you're so worried, why don't you go help her?"

"I'm not worried!" Taichi protested at once, looking away.

"Taichi," Koushiro went on, speaking slowly, "it's been two weeks and you can't even get through a fifteen-minute board meeting without letting your mind wander. Don't you think that's a sign?"

He admitted reluctantly, "I got a new mattress and it's not working well with my back…."

"Right," the redhead nodded. "Fine. Be an ass. Just don't take it out on your work, for Japan's sake."

He got up and assembled his files, about to leave when Taichi called out,

"Has she talked to you?"

Koushiro bit back a knowing smirk. "I think she phoned Miyako a couple of times."

"Oh."

"Why? Haven't you two talked?"

"To sort out the moving process, sure," Taichi muttered.

Koushiro leaned back against the door. "If you don't want her to go, just tell her."

"Don't be stupid," the man frowned. "We all know there isn't a choice about it. It's the only thing that'll get the reporters off our backs."

"That doesn't mean you two have to stop being friends completely."

Taichi didn't say anything, musing grumpily.

Koushiro shrugged and left the room. Outside the door he saw Daisuke making himself a cup of coffee and went to join him. The younger man offered him a cup and proceeded to make another one.

"So," Daisuke whistled with a smile, "what's Taichi saying?"

"Nothing," Koushiro said.

"Well, if it helps any, you can tell him Mimi's not saying anything either."

"You don't suppose—?"

"—that something's going on between them?" Daisuke shrugged. "Who knows? I just think that if they're making such a big deal about something as simple as this, then they're not being completely honest with each other."

Koushiro hesitated, "Taichi's worried about the press."

"The media's not going to change what they write no matter what their relationship is or isn't," his friend pointed out.

"But he has a point, Daisuke."

"Maybe," he consented. "I don't know. I just don't want them to throw everything away because a few people started a couple of rumors."

"It's not that simple, and you know it."

"Of course, I do. And I know that life sucks when you give up the best thing that could happen to you."

Then Taichi trudged out of the conference room, looking unhappy. Daisuke winked at his redheaded friend and sauntered over to the diplomat.

"So I heard you're having problems with—,"

"Fuck off, Daisuke."

"I'm just trying to help."

"Don't."

"You think you're the only one who worries about her?"

This time, Taichi stopped, turning around.

Daisuke shook his head. "Because you're not. But for some reason unbeknownst to mankind, _you're_ the one she worries about. So how about you push aside politics for one minute, Taichi, and settle this before you regret it?"

Taichi was quiet, staring. Then he added coolly, walking away, "One of these days, I'm going to fire you."

"And I look forward to it!" Daisuke called, grinning, waving as Taichi disappeared into his office.

"Look forward to what?" a soft voice asked, interrupting the conversation.

Daisuke spun around, seeing Mimi standing in the doorway, carrying a box of office supplies and other personal items from her former desk.

"Hey!" he smiled, a little shocked. "Where've you been? I thought I was coming over yesterday to help you with the last of the boxes."

"It's all right. I finished earlier than I expected," Mimi said.

"Didn't you start your new job today?" he asked, going to her.

She kissed his cheek in greeting. "Yes," she confirmed. "It's working well, too. The boss is nice."

"But not too nice, right?" Daisuke asked, concerned.

She stuck out her tongue. "If I want to be sexually harassed, I'll call you."

"Deal."

Koushiro asked in surprise, "Then what are you doing here?"

She gestured to the office supplies. "I just came to get the last of my stuff." She looked around casually, shifting the box in her arms. "I am going to miss this place though…."

The redhead smiled. "You'll be great, Mimi. Just don't let the papers get to you."

"I've never done that," she promised. "Worse things have happened while I was a model."

"Hey, about that," Daisuke interrupted. "I know you don't model anymore, but do you still keep in touch with any of your friends in the business, by chance?"

"None I'm going to introduce you to," she smiled sweetly.

"There has to be a reason why I like you."

She made a face.

"Taichi's in his office, if you're looking for him," Koushiro said after a moment.

"I wasn't," Mimi replied easily.

But she stopped anyway, glancing in that direction.

Daisuke recognized the look on her face. "You two still can be friends, you know. All this will blow over soon."

"Sure," she nodded vaguely. "We've always been friends. He's stupid if he thinks that's going to change."

"He's stupid for a lot of reasons," Koushiro muttered.

"You know what I mean," Daisuke told her. "I think he believes it's all over."

Mimi sighed, shaking her head. She whispered to herself, "Nothing even started…."

"Say goodbye at least," Koushiro said while he and Daisuke left.

She nodded again, walking confidently. She stopped when she reached his closed door, holding her breath while she knocked, balancing the box on her hip. Waiting, she scolded herself for being so nervous. What was there to be anxious about, saying thanks to a good friend? She frowned, reminding herself not to act stupid in front of him. It was always best to end with good impressions. That made for nice memories.

Even if she secretly didn't want to end up with just memories.

But it couldn't be helped.

With a sigh, she knocked again, listening.

Taichi's voice mumbled something and she assumed it meant "come in," so she did.

She stopped, staring.

"Are you playing golf?" she asked.

The unexpected visitor startled him and he tripped off the desk where he'd been crouching, golf club positioned to nudge the golf ball just into the miniature hole.

He landed on the floor with a painful thud, swearing, and she dropped her box of supplies at once, rushing to him. "Are you okay?" she asked, helping him up by the arm.

"Fine," he wheezed, coughing, his back aching.

"What on earth were you doing on top of your desk like that? You could have fallen off!"

"I was perfectly balanced before you threw open the door," he grumbled.

She narrowed her eyes. "That was dangerous."

"I'm a dangerous man."

"No, you're stupid. Who plays golf like that?"

"There was no room otherwise!" he protested, pointing to the unusual location of the ball and the small space left to maneuver it correctly.

"That was your fault then," she pointed out. "If you'd played the way you're supposed to—,"

"Oh, like you can do better?" he scoffed.

She smirked, hand outstretched. "Give me the club."

Suspicious, he handed it over, stepping back to watch.

Mimi reset the miniature golf set, carefully taking her time. She concentrated, biting her bottom lip, braced with the club tightly in her small hands. She calculated, bringing her arms back in a perfect swing, then took a deep breath and—

"Don't miss!" Taichi yelled.

She shrieked, and the club went flying out of her hands, smacking the bookshelf behind her. Two plaques fell off the wall and a framed photo of the diplomat and the British Prime Minister smashed on the ground.

Mimi turned red, hand over her horrified mouth, but all Taichi did was burst out laughing.

"That wasn't fair!" she cried, whining.

"What wasn't fair," he corrected with a grin, "was having to watch you leave."

She stopped, surprised. He was equally stunned; he didn't know where that came from. Before he could correct the mistake, though, she'd already spoken softly.

"It can't be helped," she said.

He shook his head. "Now what the hell does that even mean? It _could_ be helped. It could have been helped a lot. But now it's too late, see. We missed the chance. Now there's nothing we can do now, is there?"

"Listen," she explained after a small hesitation, "I'm really grateful for everything you did for me, Taichi. Coming back to Japan was something I frankly never intended, and having to do so in the situation I was in—well, you made it easier. You were yourself, funny and friendly and wonderful, and it helped more than you could ever know. So I want to thank you. You're a real friend, Taichi."

He smiled dryly. "Yeah. I get that a lot."

She frowned. "Tai—,"

"Never mind," he dismissed. "I'm glad you feel that way. I hope we'll stay friends for as long as you stay in Tokyo."

"That…might not be very long," she admitted quietly.

He said nothing, too surprised to speak.

He opened his mouth, mind blank, then shut it again. "Um—,"

"It's just that things I didn't expect came up while I was here and—and maybe going home to New York would be better…" she trailed off, anxiously searching his face for his thoughts.

He was quiet, breathing softly. "Japan's your home, Mimi."

"I know," she sighed. "But like I said…unexpected things…came up."

"So you're going back into modeling?" he asked.

"I don't think so," she admitted. "Maybe I'll try and work for a fashion magazine. I do know my way around that industry pretty well, I should think. And New York's the place to be for that." She hesitated, "Are you…okay with it?"

"Okay with what?" he asked, vaguely disorientated.

"You know with what," she said quietly.

He paused, "If okay means happy, then no. I'm not."

She looked away, biting her lip again.

He went to her, taking a hand in his. He brushed her hair away from her face, fingers running over the smooth of her cheek. "But I've learned to be unhappy with a lot of things. I think I can handle another one."

Mimi offered a weak smile at the joke, but it was insincere. She took a deep, shaky breath. Suddenly, she didn't want him touching her, no matter how good it felt.

"I wonder how often this happens," she whispered.

"What?" he whispered back.

"How things seem so clear after the end."

"I think it's funny."

"I think it's stupid."

"I'm good at being stupid."

"Me, too," she breathed, lips close enough for him to feel her mouth the words against his skin.

The intercom blared. "Mr. Yagami?" his secretary demanded.

The two of them sprang apart, shocked.

"Y-Yes?" Taichi stammered, recovering quickly.

"Call for you. The French ambassador. It's urgent, he says."

"Right."

Mimi was blushing, chewing her lip now, visibly nervous.

He didn't move, just watching her. Then he shook his head, stepping back. "I'm sorry, that was—uncalled for."

She ran a hand through her soft, light brown hair. "No, I'm the one who should be apologizing—,"

"What's that?" he interrupted, noticing something.

She stopped. "What's what?" she asked, confused.

He pointed to a dark spot on her neck. "That."

"Oh," she shook her head again, "nothing. I think I strained something lifting all those boxes. I've been sore all over since I woke up."

"You shouldn't be lifting things that are too heavy for you," he warned.

"I'm almost done with everything now."

"Do you need help?"

"No," she protested, "I'm fine. Really, it's just reorganizing now."

"I can help," he offered.

"Really, I'll be all right."

"I can help," he repeated.

She stared at him, holding his hard, dark-eyed gaze. She nodded slowly after a minute. "Okay."

"Great," he smiled. "I'll drop by after work. Might have to throw the reporters off my trail and fly right through your window, so keep it open."

She smiled back. "Sure thing."

"Anything in particular I should wear?" he joked, grinning.

She cocked her head. "Assuming clothes are a factor in the end…."

He raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, that's right, I've already seen you naked—right before I threw up."

"Hey, that was the alcohol, all right? If you'd been sober, you would have died of awe."

"Of course," she smirked.

"I'll see you tonight."

She smiled again, taking her box and shutting the door behind her.

It took him a minute to process what had just happened, and when it did he didn't know whether to throw a victory dance or pass out from the horror.

He didn't—he couldn't actually—did he?

Was it possible?

And maybe—did she—could she actually return the feeling?

They had grown close these past few months. And even though it was obvious they were friends and always would be, all he had to do was touch her and suddenly—suddenly everything just felt _different_. He couldn't explain it. These few months, he just felt more…_alive_.

He had to be going crazy.

Thanks to her, the embassy was the subject of one of the most eyebrow-raising political scandals of the century.

He also couldn't sleep at night since she moved out.

The apartment felt too empty.

He hadn't felt like this since—well, since he thought he was in love with Sora all those years ago.

But that was ridiculous. He wasn't in _love_ with Mimi. That was the stupidest thing he'd ever heard.

Of course, now that he'd heard it, he couldn't get it out of his head.

This was not good.

After all, she hadn't exactly pushed him away a few minutes ago, or even in the fountain that night when they had been about to kiss. She hadn't exactly sent him the kind of signal he would have normally expected. And even now, he thought, maybe hoped, he saw something else in her eyes.

He smacked himself in the forehead.

It was official.

He was insane.

She was his friend. You don't fall in love in with your friends—

_Aha_! There was that word again! The evil, awful, terrible word—

"Mr. Yagami!" the secretary was barking through the intercom. "The ambassador is waiting for you to pick put the phone, please!"

Taichi jumped, startled.

"I'm on it," he yelled back, shaking himself out of his daydream and kicking aside the golf set he'd bought to entertain himself with when he got to stressed.

Well, the sooner he finished work, the sooner he could see her again. And this time, they were going to figure an end to this once and for all. He was tired of playing around. Time to see what he was made of.

* * *

A few hours later, he had pulled in all the loose ends he could for the day and told the secretary to page him if any news came up that had to be dealt with. He phoned Koushiro and invited himself over for dinner because Li had the night off and Taichi wasn't in the mood to cook. He heard Daisuke and Miyako yelling at each other in the background and had second thoughts, but his redheaded friend begged him to join the group for supper as the sane anchor. With a laugh, Taichi promised to be there after he stopped by Mimi's. 

He gave his chauffer the directions and told him to take a very off-beat route to confuse anyone who might be following him, though security promised that things had cooled down considerably since the initial debacle and things would be safe for the two of them. Well, more Taichi than Mimi, but seeing as how she was planning on moving back to New York sometime soon….

He had to convince her to stay.

He didn't want her to go.

There had to be a way to change her mind.

He was mulling over his options while he rang the doorbell to the posh apartment, waiting.

A few minutes later, the door opened.

Taichi froze.

"Oh, hey, Yagami," Michael grinned at him, soft blue eyes twinkling. He shook curls of blond hair out of his eyes and offered a hand in greeting. "Long time no see! You look great."

Taichi just sort of stared back, openmouthed.

"You—," he stammered.

"—just flew in yesterday. New York's buzzing about certain rumors involving you and Mimi in the internet tabloids and I got curious," he smiled brightly. "Actually, I've got business in Tokyo for a few days. Mimi kindly offered me a place to stay. Don't read into it."

Taichi's jaw was still hanging open dumbly, but he managed to snap it shut after a minute. "I—yeah, yeah, she mentioned something about that earlier," he lied, trying to cover up the rude shock.

Michael nodded. "Were you looking for her?"

"Um, yeah, if she's around…."

"Should be pulling soon. You're more than welcome to wait," the American held the door open for the diplomat, still smiling blissfully. "Do you want anything to eat? I'm making omelets for a pre-dinner snack," Michael gestured at the stove and turned in time to see smoke rising. He yelped and dove for the kitchen, leaving Taichi alone at the door. "Just come on in, make yourself at home," the blond called as he struggled to tame the edible creations. "She should be home any second."

"Yeah…."

Hesitating slightly, Taichi stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He walked towards the sitting area and stood around uncertainly.

There were boxes everywhere, holding much more than the small space could handle, but he realized that Mimi was probably used to a larger place. But she'd adapted well. Everything around the home seemed uniquely her: the smell, the design, the scattered but sentimental feel. Definitely her.

"Go ahead and sit wherever you like," Michael said from behind him. "This could take a while to fix…."

Taichi smiled and settled himself on one end of the couch.

After a while of sitting, staring, and being bored, his idleness was cured by Michael's announcement of the completed omelets. The man suggested that Taichi go wash up while he set everything on the table. Feeling a little guilty for essentially inviting himself without forewarning, he silently obeyed.

The bathroom was in the hallway, and he stopped to smirk at the pink and white striped wallpaper. Shaking his head, he washed his hands and dried them, then went back to the hallway and stopped dead in his tracks.

The guest bedroom was spotlessly clean.

Taichi stared at it, mind blank. Then he shook his head hard and scolded himself silently. Mimi was always the neat one when it came to appearances. She probably made him clean everything up, and Michael was usually too polite to leave messes unattended too long.

_Yes,_ he though confidently, _that's it. That's what happened._

He took one step forward and turned to the left, towards the kitchen and sitting area.

He stopped.

Feeling his heart rise to his throat, he closed his eyes, stepped backwards, and opened his eyes to look into her bedroom.

The room had not been made neat, two suitcases had been left open in the corner, and the bed sheets draped off the sides of the queen-sized mattress while a pillow and two pairs of slippers lay on the floor.

He stared at the slippers unblinkingly.

Wrenching his steady gaze away, he started towards the front door. He passed Michael sitting at the table with half an omelet already gone from his plate.

The man looked up from his meal and frowned as Taichi grabbed his coat from the couch. "Yagami? Where are you—?"

"Paged," he gasped, surprised by how hoarse he sounded. "I need to get back to the embassy. An emergency with—Russia," he added stupidly.

Michael looked genuinely disappointed.

Taichi wanted to punch his face in.

"All right then. But you're always welcome back—,"

He nodded hurriedly, and closed the door hard to interrupt the blond.

He shut his eyes for a moment, jaw clenched tight, and walked steadily to the elevator, taking it to the ground floor. He ignored the chauffer who held the door as he climbed into the back. But once inside, he just sat there, stiff and frozen.

How could he have been so _stupid?_

He felt his eyes sting as the car started, and he glared angrily at his clenched hands.

_Fuck it._

* * *


	7. Chapter 7

**Only Alive**

* * *

AU When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before….

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

"Hey, where were you?"

Taichi didn't bother looking up. "I had work."

"You do realize we work at the same place, right?" Koushiro teased, amused.

His friend said nothing.

The redhead's smile faded. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah, actually," the diplomat snapped coldly. "I'm trying to figure out why Japan was underrepresented at the world hunger conference in Berlin and France hasn't replied to inquiries I made months ago and the prime minister called this morning wanting a personal meeting and the copier is broken and the coffee is bitter and _where the fuck are my idiot assistants_?" he screamed the last one at the direction of the open office door. Immediately one of the interns zoomed in carrying files that Taichi snatched up. With a glare worthy of the devil himself, Taichi dismissed the poor, shaking youth and angrily sat back down in his chair.

Koushiro was gaping, openmouthed.

"I hired you to work, Koushiro, not gawk stupidly," Taichi grumbled.

The redhead frowned. "Taichi—,"

"Just go," he interrupted darkly.

Setting his jaw, Koushiro obeyed, walking away.

He was at the door reaching for the handle when Taichi called, "She's back with Michael."

Koushiro was quiet, still facing the door.

Taichi's voice went on softly, "And I hate that."

This time, his friend turned around. He studied Taichi closely. The diplomat was hunched over his desk, staring at the piles of papers and folders before him. Then he rested his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands.

"Dammit," he whispered.

Koushiro sighed, leaning against the door. "Do you want to talk?"

"No," Taichi refused hoarsely.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he lied, eyes closed.

The redhead hesitated. Then he nodded.

"You know where to find me," he murmured, finally leaving the room.

* * *

Daisuke went to the end of the hall, stopped, then returned to the apartment door.

He hesitated.

Then he went back to the end of the hall, stopped, and—

"Will you stop pacing!" Miyako cried. "You're making me nauseas."

He paused, eyeing her very pregnant stomach. "Are you sure you should even be out?"

She shot him a dirty look. "Don't worry, Daisuke, it's not contagious."

He rolled his eyes.

"All right," he sighed. "Remember—quick and to the point,"

"But gentle," she reminded.

"Right," he nodded. "Okay. Let's go."

He knocked on the door.

A minute later, it opened, and Mimi blinked at them in total confusion. Then her eyes went wide. "Oh! Hi, guys! How are you?" She held the door open to welcome them inside, "Come in, come in!"

Daisuke kissed her cheek in greeting and Miyako hugged her. Mimi sat her down on the sofa.

"You haven't unpacked," Miyako noticed in surprise.

Mimi smiled. "Yeah, I don't…think I'm going to be getting around to that…."

Daisuke looked up at her, expression serious for once. "What are you talking about?"

She played with her hair nervously. "You know, being back in Tokyo was…great. I really missed you guys. But New York is my home. And I really need to go back."

Miyako sniffled, highly emotional in these times. "But I wanted you to be here for—,"

"Oh, sweetie, I will," Mimi promised at once, "I'm not leaving tomorrow. I still have to figure out a lot of things. I definitely will be there for you, okay?"

Daisuke was quiet, distracted in his study of the apartment. "I think you're making a big mistake."

The girls stared at him.

He was serious, "I really do."

"Daisuke, you are free to visit me any time," Mimi said slowly. "I'll even introduce you to a few of my friends, if it will make you feel better."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm talking about Taichi."

Miyako's eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Mimi just stared. "Are you…feeling all right…?"

"Mi, I'm serious. You're making a mistake with him."

She shook her head, walking to the kitchen. "You're imagining things. Taichi and I are just—,"

"That's the mistake," Daisuke interrupted. "Staying friends. It's not what he wants."

Miyako struggled to sit up. "Really?" she asked, delighted.

"You're imagining things, Daisuke," they heard Mimi yell from the kitchen as she filled a glass with water from the sink.

"He told me."

The sound of running water stopped. A few seconds later, she peeked outside the kitchen window.

Daisuke shifted his feet, "Okay, so may not in so many words exactly…or in any…but I could tell. Mimi, before you came back, Taichi was—well, he needed somebody. He needs somebody," he corrected. "And then you came back."

She held her breath, "I—,"

"Mimi, where do the towels go—oh, sorry," Michael stopped, embarrassed. "I didn't realize you had company. Nice to see you two again."

Miyako's eyes narrowed and Daisuke frowned.

Michael looked confused. "Did I say something wrong…?"

"You can just leave them in the bathroom," Mimi told him, recovering senses. "I'll get to them later."

"Okay…."

"Mimi, you've got to give him a chance—," Daisuke started.

"You really are imagining things," she interrupted, shaking her head. "And there is nothing to imagine or even base your imaginings on because—,"

"What's going on?" Michael asked, looking at her.

She stopped, holding her breath. Then she shut her eyes.

"If none of this is real," Daisuke murmured, "then why are you two making it so hard?"

Without another word she turned and walked stiffly to the bathroom.

They watched her leave. Then Michael glanced warily at the two guests, "If you'll excuse us for a minute."

"Sure," Miyako said politely. She waited until Michael had followed Mimi and disappeared into the bathroom, too, before reaching out and violently slapping Daisuke in the leg with her large leather purse.

He leapt back, wincing, "Ow!"

"What's the matter with you?" she hissed. "Don't you have any tact?"

"Don't you want to see your friends happy?"

"Of course, I do! That doesn't mean I have to make them feel miserable first!"

"I thought women loved that part!"

She smacked him again.

"Hey!" he yelped. "Don't make me take that purse away because I will, and I can sure as hell outrun you!"

Miyako sighed irritably, shifting to a more comfortable position, "Daisuke, I know Koushiro asked us to talk to her while he tried to talk to Taichi, but I do not think either of them would appreciate knowing you made her cry over this stupid mess."

"I did not make her cry," he protested stubbornly. Then he stopped. "Did I?"

Miyako shrugged.

"Well, even if she does, that just proves she feels something for Taichi."

"We can't prove that. We've got nothing to even go on," she pointed out. "All we have is—,"

"Is the way they look at each other, Miyako," he finished simply. "You've seen it, I've seen it. Maybe it isn't anything at all, maybe it is—but they're never going to find out if they let it go now."

She narrowed her eyes.

He frowned. "What?"

"That was unnaturally intuitive."

"I have my moments."

* * *

She heard him rap softly on the door.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

With a sigh, she unlocked the handle and opened the door. He slipped inside, shutting it behind him. Pushing his fingers into the pockets of his jeans, Michael cocked his head to the side and studied her.

"Want to tell me what's going on?" he asked after a moment.

Mimi concentrated on her reflection in the mirror. "Michael, I'm really glad your back."

He smiled a little. "I could tell."

She couldn't help smiling back. "And about that night—,"

"If you're asking me to take it back, I won't," he interrupted gently. "I can't, Mimi. There was a reason we let it go that far."

She sighed, sinking to the ground.

He went over to her, dropping to a crouch beside her. He put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. "So you want to tell me what's going on?"

"What?" she looked at him, surprised. "Nothing, I just—,"

"Then what were Daisuke and Miyako doing here?"

Mimi bit her lip. She shook her head. "It's stupid…."

"Too stupid to tell me?"

She hesitated, "I've been staying at Taichi's for a few months, Michael. I only just moved out. I had to—people were making such a big deal out of it, and it's really stupid because—," she stopped, unable to think.

He was quiet. "It sounds like a big deal to me."

"It isn't," she insisted. "Nothing ever happened and—we just became really good friends—except now he won't even talk to me anymore and I don't know what I did wrong…."

He didn't say anything.

She sighed again.

"Do you have feelings for him?" Michael asked softly after a long moment.

She winced, "I don't know! I don't know anything about him—about us—about anything! I just—all I know is none of it makes sense. Michael, you're what makes sense to me. You—you're perfect and I love us together and I have all these wonderful memories and I know where I stand with you." She took a deep breath and whispered, "But you hurt me."

"I know," he whispered back. "And I'm sorry. I wouldn't be here now if I weren't sorry—,"

"I was just starting to change, to get better, to get over you—and then you showed up again and I—I let you come back. And that night was amazing, it really was, please don't get me wrong." She bit her lip, "But Michael, what are we doing?"

He looked away, sighing. "I think we're trying to figure us out. What do you want us to be?"

"Happy," she said.

He leaned in closer, "I can make you happy again."

She already knew that, remembered everything they'd gone through, what they'd talked about the night he came back. But before then, she'd changed. She was different now. And she wouldn't have been this way, have gotten this far, if it weren't for _him_.

She looked down at her hands again. "I need some time to think about this."

Michael smiled sadly. "Okay. I'll be here, Mimi. I'll be right here."

* * *

After a few more minutes, Michael managed to convince her to leave the bathroom so she could explain herself to Miyako and Daisuke while he finished with the laundry. The two guests had entertained themselves with clever attempts of eavesdropping but now waited for Mimi's answer.

Mimi just tried to get them to leave, but Daisuke was adamant, insisting that she come talk to Taichi. She pointed out that not only would such a conversation make the reporters who still lingered in hopes of a slip-up go tabloid-happy, but also that previous attempts to talk hadn't exactly turned out that well. Just the other day, he agreed to come over to her new apartment and help with the move, but he never even showed up.

Daisuke pointed out that that was just proof that Taichi didn't know how to handle what he felt about her, and Miyako suggested that maybe Mimi should go and at least explain how she felt.

Finally, just to shut them up, Mimi agreed, and the three left for Taichi's apartment.

Li let them in, pleased to see Mimi again. He told them Taichi was taking a shower and would be out soon, after which Daisuke and Miyako conveniently thought up excuses to make their exits and left before Mimi could protest.

Li returned to the kitchen and after a few minutes, Mimi had half the mind to follow him when Taichi's bedroom door opened and the young diplomat walked out. He stopped when he saw her sitting on the couch. She didn't get up.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey," he said lowly. "What are you doing here?"

"Why didn't you come over?" she shot back.

He stared. "What?"

"A few days ago. You promised to come over and help out, remember?"

He walked away from her. "Something came up."

"You could have called."

"I forgot."

"Taichi, what's going on?"

He glanced at her. "Nothing."

"You won't talk to me, you won't do anything—it's like everything we went through together the past few months never happened and it's because of something I don't understand because you won't tell me anything anymore. Taichi, I really thought we were becoming good friends. Before everything blew up in our faces, we had something, didn't we? Or did I just imagine it?"

He scowled, refusing to say anything.

She sighed irritably. "That's what I can't stand about you. I never know where I stand with you, Taichi. Nothing ever makes sense when I'm around you. I'm never sure what I feel about you—and you," she hesitated, shaking her head. "Taichi, didn't you even once in all the time we had feel anything that was enough to keep this from ending the way it is now? Or am I supposed to go home and you go back to the embassy and everything is just going to end like that? Did none of this mean anything to you?"

He stopped.

"You know, if we figured us out, maybe we could get past all these—all this tension between us. Don't you feel it? We weren't like this before. And I do think we changed each other and helped each other move on from past relationships, but—,"

"Sure," he muttered darkly, "we've changed each other quite a bit, haven't we?"

She frowned at him, hurt by his tone of voice. "What's the matter with you?"

"_Me_?" Taichi spun around. "What about _you_?" he snapped.

"I haven't done anything—,"

"Except jump straight into bed with Michael the second he crawls back!"

Mimi's mouth dropped open.

"_What_?" she screeched, horrified.

But he ignored the infringement of privacy. "So don't you dare come here and tell me that—,"

"How did you—?" she stopped, breathing heavily. Then she cried, face red, furious, "I can't believe you! You don't even know what happened!"

"I don't need to," he interrupted hotly. Then he shook his head. "You know what? Just forget it. I don't care anymore—,"

"Well, obviously you must!" Mimi shot back. "We're _friends_, Taichi, and we have a friendship, not a relationship, which means you don't have any right to take over my personal life and tell me who I can or can't be with! You're acting like a jealous—,"

He shouted, "Don't you get it? Don't you understand anything? Yes, you make me feel different—no, I don't want to forget what we had—yes, I want to see if there's even the _slightest_ chance that something else was there that night in the restaurant or the fountain in the rain or the cheesy television movies you used to make me watch or the lunches with the others or seeing you every day at the embassy and figuring out you were the only reason I even bothered to show up there anymore. And the second I realize I don't want any of that to change, you tell me good-bye. I can't let you do that, Mimi. You want to know why?"

She said nothing, frozen, eyes wide.

He took a deep breath, whispering sadly, "Because I'm alive with you."

Her mouth opened, but she couldn't say anything.

It was the most innocent, sweetest kiss he'd ever given anyone, and he was glad he'd saved it for her. He separated, letting his mouth linger over hers, and she made a noise like a whimpering protest, trying to push away. He took her by the shoulders, running his hands up to cup her face.

"And I'm sorry it took me so long to see it but I—," he stopped. He held her closer, staring into her wide bright eyes. "Do you know what it feels like, Mimi? Do you know how it feels to be waiting all your life for someone to come and save you, to show you how to breathe again? Do you know how it feels to be so alive?" He shook his head. "This kind of alive—Mimi, it's being weak and strong and terrified and breathless all at once, all when you thought you could never feel anything like that inside you again. But I do, Mimi, and it's because of you. I'm only alive with you."

She shut her eyes, breathing shallow.

He kissed her softly, shaking.

"So not yet," he said. "I don't want to lose this feeling yet. Don't leave yet. Start something with me, not him. I can make you happy. So please, don't leave."

"Taichi—,"

He kissed her again.

She kept trying to pull away, saying a protest into his mouth, fingers clasping his to pry them away. But he wouldn't let her go, and he wouldn't be moved, and he wouldn't stop, no matter how hard she struggled or how much she tried to tell him to stop, even when he tasted the tears running down her face. He just kissed her harder, pressing her close, breathing her in, falling in love so desperately and so suddenly it hurt.

And finally, she wrenched herself away.

She covered her mouth with a hand, pressed both palms to her face, shaking her head.

He stood in silence, catching his breath.

He didn't stop her when she turned sharply and stumbled for the apartment door, slamming it shut behind her.

He didn't go to her, didn't follow her, didn't keep her from leaving.

He didn't do anything but stay where he was, frozen and horrified.

And that was how he let her walk away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Only Alive**

* * *

AU When his ex moves out, Taichi's classy apartment is suddenly intolerably empty. So he fills it with a pleasantly attractive roommate who's only a "friend." Right. Like _that's_ stopped him before…. 

**Disclaimer**: I don't own. Anything, come to think of it. Including the title of this fic. I explain: "Only Alive" is a song by Jars of Clay.

**Author's Note**: Last chapter! Thanks for the reviews.

* * *

_I'm only alive with you_

_I can't get by and I won't get through_

_So put me in the river and let me say I do_

_I'm only alive with you_

"Only Alive" by Jars of Clay

* * *

If this had been any other goodbye, he would have been drunk by now. 

But it wasn't goodbye.

Not to him.

Not if he could help it.

Which would explain why, instead of showing up to work for the past week, he stalked her like a crazed lunatic (which in all fairness he probably was).

Currently, for example, he was warding off the lone reporter who hadn't given up on the now old scandal rumors (for an incident with a famous CEO and his daughter's nanny had finally stolen attention away) while banging on her apartment door.

"Mimi!" he yelled. "Mimi, I know you're in there so you might as well answer!"

The reporter, who had paused to reload his camera, suggested, "Maybe you should call her again, sir."

"Don't you think I've tried that?" Taichi snapped, irritated. Then he stopped, eyeing the photographer suspiciously. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"Flash me the restraining order and I'm gone, sir, but until then," he gestured to his camera with a toothless grin.

Taichi was disgusted.

But he frankly did not have any interest in chasing the pathetic excuse for a journalist away. He'd already spent most of his effort of the morning calling anyone he could think of who would have even the slightest chance of knowing how to get in touch with her. He had convinced himself that it didn't matter what decision she'd come to about them—he had to explain himself.

If he was going to lose, then he wasn't going lose this way.

And that kiss—

And God, it was the most incredible thing he'd ever been stupid enough to do, but that was just it—it was stupid of him. He never should have gone and done it, surprised her like that, caught her so off guard. He didn't blame her for reacting the way she had, really. It had taken him more than just a few minutes to get over the shock himself, to recover from the numbing panic.

He didn't even remember why he'd done it.

At the moment, standing there and seeing her, listening to her and realizing even if half the things she said was just stupid and the other half just weird, he really wouldn't have minded listening to her for the rest of his life if he could. He wouldn't have minded at all. And in hindsight, he could safely say that that was the reason he kissed her. He wanted to see if anything he said—anything at all in his rambling and babbling—was even the tiniest bit true.

He'd just wanted to kiss her goodbye, and he came away knowing beyond a doubt that goodbye was the worst thing he could do with her, with this. It wasn't what he wanted.

And maybe he was moving too fast.

And maybe he was chasing something that probably wouldn't last or didn't offer any guarantees or promises of a concrete future, barely even having a past to anchor onto either.

And maybe he really was imagining all of this, he was just delusional and delirious and dumb.

But maybe he just wanted to be wrong.

Because everything he'd blurted out had been the truth.

He was sick of being so dead for so long.

He'd be an idiot if he let the one thing that could bring him back to life walk away.

Especially with _him_.

_Fuck America_, he thought with a perverse sort of resentment.

And, as though God were answering him, the apartment door finally opened.

The two men stared at each other in a very manly sort of way.

The reporter watched eagerly as Michael sighed, pulling the door closed behind him as he stepped into the hallway.

Taichi very childishly refused to speak to him, so Michael said, "If you're looking for Mimi, she's not here."

"I'd rather see that for myself," the diplomat replied curtly.

"I'm sure you would, but it's the truth."

The reporter readied his camera, waiting.

Taichi took one step back. "Fine."

He turned to walk away when Michael suddenly called, "You know, we should really be putting her before what we want."

"I am," Taichi replied coolly.

"So you're saying that running all over the city trying to chase her down for the past week was best for her interest? There must be another more diplomatic way of dealing with the situation, don't you agree?"

He greatly resented the reference to his line of work, but he couldn't think of anything to say right away in response. (Possibly because the tiny rational voice in the back of his mind had been telling him this ever since he first ventured forth on his quest, but only possibly.)

"Then are you saying your coming back after all these months was best for her interest?" he finally countered.

Michael's gaze softened. "I suppose I deserve that."

Taichi held his tongue, knowing it wouldn't be the smartest thing to snap back. Instead, he watched as Michael turned around and opened the apartment door, retrieving two suitcases and dragging them back to the hallway outside. He raised a curious eyebrow.

"What're you doing?"

"Giving her the space she wants," the man replied. "That's what she needs right now, Taichi. To think, to sort things out, come to terms with her feelings, make a choice. She doesn't need the pressures you and I are placing on her at once like this. Do you think you could be considerate long enough to give her some time to herself?"

Taichi bit his lip, staring.

"If I can try and wait, I think you can, too," Michael added, pulling his suitcases towards the elevators.

Taichi stared after him, saying nothing.

The camera flashed and nearly blinded him.

"Hey!"

"Your expression—it was so magnificent!" the reporter gushed. "Such real, raw, human emotion—,"

"You have ten seconds to get out of my face," Taichi threatened.

"But—,"

"One, two, ten!"

"Hey, Yagami," Michael called.

Taichi turned, surprised.

The blond had returned, holding a small white box tied in red ribbon. He held it out. "She left this for you."

"What?"

"I'll see you around," the man said, saying nothing else as he walked away.

Taichi fingered the present, not sure what to think. He looked down at the box, turning it over several times in his hands. He frowned, confused.

"Open it!" the reporter urged, immensely curious.

Taichi rolled his eyes, annoyed but equally interested. He unceremoniously ripped the ribbon away, opened the cover and pushing aside layers of neatly crease tissue paper. Then he froze, holding his breath.

The reporter whistled, camera poised to take a picture of the new leather wallet. It was a smooth black, custom made it seemed, an on the back was a small silver plaque engraved with his initials.

Taichi opened it silently.

A small square of paper read, _I'm sorry_.

It was like the final push he'd been looking for, been waiting for all this time, and suddenly he was falling so fast and so unexpectedly that there was no stopping now.

He dropped the box and ribbons and tissue and clutched the wallet in his hands, running for the elevator.

The doors were just about to close, but he shot through them, squeezing inside the compartment just in time. Ignoring the reporter's indignant cries as he was left behind, he turned to Michael with a slapstick kind of grin, lopsided and crazy.

"You're wrong."

Michael stared. "What?"

"You're wrong. I'm not waiting. I can't. There's no fucking way I'm losing this."

Michael was way beyond confused. "I—,"

"If it's over, it's over," Taichi went on, "but I'm not wasting another second." The elevator doors opened and he tumbled out, barely glancing back. "Maybe you were what she needed once, Michael, but she's what I need now. And I don't have the luxury to wait. If it takes me the rest of my life, I'll chase her. See you around," he said, before taking off down the street.

He fumbled for his cell phone once he reached the subway, catching his breath from the sprinting his body wasn't used to anymore. Bending over tiredly, he quickly dialed a familiar number and waited for an answer.

"Hello?" Daisuke greeted after a minute.

"Where is she?" Taichi demanded, breathing hard.

"Uh—,"

"I don't have time to explain, Daisuke, just tell me where she is!"

"With Miyako, I think, but she doesn't want to see you—,"

"Where?"

"I don't know, baby shopping or something, but seriously, Tai, Mimi doesn't want—,"

"I will give you a raise."

"All right, fine! But don't tell her I told you! There's this new candy store that opened up across from the mall a few weeks ago. Odds are the two of them are there instead of having a more nutritious lunch…."

Taichi shoved himself into the train. "Okay. Okay, thanks, Daisuke."

"Yeah, yeah, just go get her and leave my name out of it—,"

Taichi promised and hung up quickly.

He got off at the next stop, racing up the stairs and onto the street. There was a light drizzle pouring now, threatening to evolve into something more unpleasant with time, but Taichi just pulled up the collar of his trench coat and kept walking, searching for the store.

He found the mall, packed with shoppers hoping to avoid the rain, and then looked across the street.

His heart almost skipped a beat.

Miyako and Mimi were standing just outside the doors of the tiny candy café, closing their umbrellas and chattering happily. Mimi held the door open for her pregnant friend, laughing at something the other must have said, before entering the store herself.

Taichi stood in the rain for a minute, staring at her blurred figure.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, suddenly hesitant and vaguely nauseas, but then his hands brushed against the new leather of his wallet and he shut his eyes. He could do this. He'd been waiting to do this for a long time. He was ready.

Then he opened his eyes, confident, and took a step forward.

A car came roaring around the corner and splashed muddy water all over him.

He grimaced, hopes deflated.

God certainly had an interesting way of dispensing with supernatural signs these days….

Somewhat less confident, Taichi crossed the street and went inside the store.

The bell above the door chimed cheerfully, and the customers inside looked up.

Mimi's mouth dropped open.

"Taichi!" she exclaimed, a hand over her mouth. "What are you doing?"

He dragged himself over to her, leaving mud tracks all over the floor. The owner of the candy store was screeching at him hysterically, but he ignored the insults for now. He pulled off the wet hood of his raincoat, which ultimately proved to have been an utterly useless addition to his protective gear. He was just as wet as he had been the night he'd locked them out of the car, she noticed, but this time there was a different look on his face. His hair was soaked through and plastered against his damp skin, but he didn't care.

Taichi stopped when he reached her, standing tall but feeling awfully small, even compared to her petite structure. He felt naked under her wide, honey-eyed gaze, as though she had access to every single one of his thoughts with one simple glance.

But nothing about her was simple, he realized.

She was as complex and confusing and confounding as a woman could be, but now he suspected she was that way because of what she did to him.

Which he had yet to figure out.

But he desperately wanted to, so much that it hurt painfully to be so close and still so far away.

"Mimi," he began, starting on the speech he'd rehearsed mentally several times in preparation for this moment.

His mind blanked.

"Mimi…." He tried again, a panicked dread sinking into his stomach, but his voice failed him.

_Dammit._

"What the hell have you been doing?" she asked, saving him the embarrassment of staring stupidly.

He glanced down at himself. He must look awful. Then he caught her gaze again and whispered, "Come back."

She stared.

"What?" she breathed in disbelief.

"Come back," he said again, gaining confidence with repetition. "I want you to come back to me. I want you to make me feel alive again. Please," he added after a moment. "I want to feel that again, and I can't without you."

She pressed her hand over her mouth. "Taichi…."

He rushed through the rest, stumbling over the words, "Let's just forget everything that happened. Let's just—,"

"No," she interrupted, shaking her head. "Taichi, don't start. You're taking this too fast—I just—I can't handle all this happening at once—,"

"I know you're feeling overwhelmed," he said, "but so am I, Mimi. I'm feeling everything you are now, but the thing is—I never want to stop feeling this." He dug out the new wallet. "See this? I don't need this. I don't need anything like this to prove that I've moved on. The only thing that will prove I'm ready to start something new is starting it with you, Mimi, because you're the only reason I want to start anything at all. And I know it's a lot to process and it's crazy and strange—but I don't want to wait anymore. I don't want to stop."

He hesitated, waiting for her response. She just looked at him, mouth parted in shock. She shut her eyes. "I don't know—I don't know—,"

"I know you don't," he said desperately. "But it won't always be like this. Let me prove it to you, please. Mimi, I can prove it if you just give me once chance. Forget—just forget everything that happened before. Me, I'll forget my mistakes and my regrets and I'll start all over with you. I will if you will start over with me. Just say you will and I won't let you down, Mimi."

He took a step closer to her, "And maybe we have nothing to go on and maybe this will all be for nothing—but I can't believe that. Not after what you've put me through, all these feelings you've put me through. And maybe I don't know how it would end, but all I know is that it can't end at all if we don't give it a chance to begin. And that's all I'm asking you, Mimi. One chance, one. Forget the rest. Let's forget it all. We'll start over, from the very beginning. I'll make this work, I swear. Just give me the chance, please. I'll prove it to you. I can be everything you want. I can be all you need. Just let me try. Forget the rest, just give me one chance."

She hesitated, and then whispered through her fingers, "No."

His heart stopped. He couldn't speak. Nothing made sense. The world felt insufferably small, and the room seemed empty of air, so he had to gasp deeply to keep from suffocating.

Not after everything—not like this—not this soon—

She was shaking her head, but his mind was numb. It took him a moment longer to realize she was saying something. "No, I won't forget. Don't ask me to forget anything, Taichi. I want to remember it all. Everything that led us here—I'm never forgetting a single moment. And I'm sorry it took me so long to see it, but, Taichi—I want to see if something's there, if something's here. And I want to try it with you," she whispered with a tiny smile.

His senses slowly reawakened.

He stared, feeling stupid as he tried to put the confusing pieces together.

"Then…you'll come back? You'll say yes?"

"Idiot," she whispered with a shaky laugh. She stepped close to him, placing a hand on his chest. She ran it down the button flap of his raincoat, pulling him closer. "You and I—we're idiots. What took us so long to see?"

He leaned instinctively into her, a wave of overwhelming relief and disbelief and possibility sweeping through him, when a loud gasp interrupted his next words.

Leaning forward in her chair, Miyako was clutching her protruding belly, her eyes wide and legs spread.

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

"Oh, my God!" Mimi shrieked, shoving Taichi away unceremoniously and throwing herself at her friend's side.

Taichi looked at the wet floor at Miyako's feet, and then at the pregnant woman, the store owner, and finally Mimi, who met his horrified stare.

"Oh, shit," he said.

"Don't stand around and gawk!" she bellowed at him. "Get an ambulance, get Koushiro, _get her help_ _now_!"

Then started the mad dash to the phones, but Taichi kept dropping his cell phone and pressing the wrong buttons. Apparently being more experienced in such situations, the candy store owner used the store phone to call the hospital, but Mimi decided they couldn't wait for the ambulance.

"It's not that far," she said, helping Miyako to her feet. "Get a taxi, Taichi!"

He obeyed without a word, scrambling for the door, while the store owner helped Mimi lead Miyako to the cab that Taichi had flagged down. The young woman kept protesting, saying she wanted to wait for Koushiro, but Mimi did her best to dissuade her. "He'll meet us at the hospital," she comforted, easing her into the backseat.

Taichi tried to open the passenger door, but Miyako's cries kept distracting him and he fumbled, clueless. Mimi saw his panic and waved him away.

"Just get in the back with her!" she commanded.

He paled. "What?"

"Hurry!" she snapped, slamming the car door shut and giving directions to the cabdriver.

He gathered his courage and crawled into the backseat with Miyako, who immediately grabbed his hand and tried to squeeze his fingers off.

"It's too early! I'm not due for another two weeks—why is this happening to me?" she wailed. Taichi watched, open-mouthed, as the tips of his fingers turned dark shades of purple with blood.

"Miyako—," he tried to say, attempting to pry her grip off him, but she wouldn't budge.

"_Koushiro_!"

"Tell him to come to the hospital," Mimi told Taichi as the car shot down the street. A red light stopped them and Mimi swore aloud, angry, while the cabdriver chewed his lip anxiously.

Taichi had dropped his phone at the sudden brake, and now he scrambled around for it, but Miyako wouldn't let him get that far from her. She pulled him back just as his fingers tightened around his cell phone, and they both fell violently against the seat as the light turned green.

Gritting his teeth as the woman dug her fingernails into his arm, he speed-dialed his friend's number. "_Koushiro_!" he gasped when he answered. "_Miyako—baby—now—_!" he managed to say before the driver threw the car around a sharp corner and the phone flew into the dashboard. Taichi himself hit the seat in front of him while Miyako screamed.

"Hey, slow down!" he shouted, but the speed-addicted driver only pressed down on the pedal harder.

Taichi would have protested again, but Miyako gave another scream and cut off the circulation in his arm.

"Breathe, Miyako, breathe, come on! Remember your exercises!" Mimi called as they switched lanes.

"I want Koushiro!" Miyako wailed, panting.

"He'll meet us at the hospital," Mimi reassured.

"Good," she gasped as the contraction subsided. She breathed deeply. "_Because I'm gonna kill him_!" Another contraction arrived and she grabbed Taichi by the collar, gripping his throat tightly he started seeing stars. "_And you too_!" she screamed threateningly. "_You and the rest of the stupid male race_!" She started shaking him by the neck. "_I'll kill you all! All you ever think with is with your—_!"

"We're here!" the driver yelled in relief and slammed down on the brake again, coming to an abrupt halt in front of the emergency room of the hospital. Mimi tossed open the door and ran to get a wheelchair.

Taichi, rubbing his neck and wincing, kicked open his own door and tried to lure Miyako out of the car once she let go of him. "Come on, Miyako, almost there," he said, helping her out. She leaned heavily against him, crying emotionally.

"Oh, Taichi, where's Koushiro? Why isn't he here?"

"He'll be here, don't worry," he said reassuringly, leading her onto the curb.

Mimi reappeared with a nurse aide driving a wheelchair. Mimi paid the driver while Miyako was eased into it, but, to Taichi's great distress, she kept her hand wrapped around his. He tired to shake her off, but she wouldn't let go.

"You'll be just fine, ma'am," the nurse said pleasantly. She smiled down at her patient and then up at a nervous Taichi. "You can come with your wife, sir."

He felt woozy. "I'm not her husband," he corrected quickly.

The nurse's smile froze for a moment, and then her eyes darkened with disapproval.

"I'm not the father, either!" Taichi added in shock.

"Stay, Taichi," Miyako begged through gasps of breath. "Until Koushiro gets here, please?"

_Run like the wind, Koushiro_, he prayed as they all went into the hospital. Mimi followed them as far as they would let her, and when they finally arrived at the birthing room, Taichi threw her a panicked, desperate look before the doors swung shut and he was trapped inside. Another nurse threw him a green overcoat.

"Put this on if you want to stay with her."

"W-wait a minute—!" he started to protest, horrified.

The nurses paid him no attention, however, and only focused on arranging Miyako comfortably on the birthing bed. The thought of having to witness this made him want to hurl, but Miyako called out his name again as another contraction started and he bit down the bile rushing up his throat. He was still struggling to pull the coat on when he heard Mimi call out behind the doors, "Koushiro!"

_Thank you, God!_

He ran to the doors, ripping off the gown. Miyako raised her sweating face in hope.

"Koushiro?" she asked, eyes wide.

Taichi grinned and looked back—a _huge_ mistake.

"_Oh, God_," he moaned and dropped to the floor in a faint.

He narrowly missed the door's path, and Koushiro leapt right over his still body with skill enviable of an Olympic jumper. Miyako's face brightened with tears of happiness, and then darkened with anger, and finally wrinkled up with pain as the contractions began again.

Mimi reached through the doors, grabbed Taichi by the shoulders and dragged him out of the room just as the doctor walked in. She pulled him into the hallway. "Come on, wake up!" she demanded.

"What a nightmare!" he whimpered.

"It's the miracle of life, Taichi," she corrected, slipping an arm over his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. People walked by them, throwing the two odd looks for lying on the floor of the waiting room, but Mimi didn't care and Taichi wasn't aware.

"It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," he whimpered.

She smiled. "Just think of it—,"

"I'm trying not to…."

"—Miyako and Koushiro are bringing life into this world just across the room there," she went on, ignoring his interruption. "A little tiny person, full of love and life and a bright new future, who didn't even exist at all a year ago. Isn't it amazing?"

He grimaced. "I'm never forgetting my condom again."

"They're not effective one hundred percent of the time, you know."

"It's all a conspiracy!" he cried. "It's all a damn conspiracy!"

She laughed, brushing his bangs away from his face. "Not even with me?"

He shot her a look. "Don't try that on me, Mimi. I'm a diplomat. I will not be bribed."

"Then what sort of negotiation are you proposing?"

"Well, it's a compromise, but I'm offering the best sort of benefits."

She raised an eyebrow. "Go on."

"For starters, if you accept, you'll have to get used to several, usually unannounced embassy meetings, business trips, financial plans, and the like. The job also requires you to be patient and forgiving, and willing to return to the drawing board when some ideas don't make it. But you'll be free to interrupt when the boss gets cocky, and he usually listens if you really mean what you say. And of course, there will be V.I.P. passes to events around the city, complimentary luncheons, a few spending bonuses, and best of all, a brand new office with a great view." He shrugged. "What the hell, I'll even throw in vacation time."

She smirked. "That does sound good. I'll have to think about it first, though."

"Should I arrange for you and the boss to discuss it further over dinner?"

She shook her head. "Tell him I already have plans for tonight." Then she smiled slyly, nipping at his nose, "But I'd _love_ meet him over breakfast."

He grinned devilishly and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her over him and down for a long kiss. Their growing passion was interrupted minutes later as a nurse stepped out of the birthing room and stared down at them. They started in surprise when she spoke, staring up breathlessly, having forgotten entirely where they were. Their faces reddened and they straightened, though Mimi still sat in his lap and Taichi left one arm around her, using the other to prop them up.

They started to apologize, but the nurse went first:

"Sorry to interrupt, ma'am" she said to Mimi with a grin, "but your friend is asking for you." She walked towards the nurse's desk, then stopped and turned around with a wink. "See you in nine months."

Mimi blushed madly and poor Taichi's face went white as a sheet.

Her embarrassment evaporated when she saw his horror-stricken expression, and she shoved him back down, laughing into his mouth.

* * *

**The End**


End file.
